Legacy
by Lord Yellowtail
Summary: Sequel to The Just and the Law. When the principles of justice and the laws of the land clashed, a desperate champion unknowingly made a decision that would change the world, forever.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a sequel to "The Just and the Law." Parts of it will not make sense unless you're familiar with that story. In order for some elements of this tale to make work, one must remove from canon Zero's nonsensical, unexplained hibernation at the end of Mega Man X6. Likewise, the entire plot of Mega Man Zero must be considered elseworlds. Unfortunately, I do not own Mega Man X or any related characters, nor do I work for Steiff, or own _Tetris_. All feedback, including constructive criticism, is welcome. Let me know what you think. Thank you.

  


"Game over." The words taunted the woman, flashing across her terminal over and over in bright red letters. She groaned, bringing a can of soda to her lips. There would be a day when she could beat the twenty-fifth level of _Tetris_, but she was fairly certain there would be flying pigs around to watch her triumph.

Leaning back in her chair, Audrey Silver, Hunter Intelligence Analyst, ran a hand through short-cropped, ebony hair. Her lunch break would be over in fifteen minutes – which was good; she could get back to work. Whoever came up with the idea of locking out access to project related files during lunch breaks (a "mandatory relaxation period") was a complete idiot. _Well, at least it means we don't have a productivity problem. That, and no one's terribly worried about getting blown to atoms, for the moment. _Still, the sooner she finished her analysis of the surveillance satellite data waiting in her queue, the sooner she could go home. She couldn't wait. It was Friday, she had the weekend off, and her husband had, by some miracle he refused to explain, gotten them tickets to _The Gyrating Tamales_' Tokyo concert – the fifth, supposedly sold out, stop on the American rock band's world tour. Audrey didn't mind the secrecy, even if she'd only found out a few hours earlier. It was, after all, December 1st, so she just counted it as an early Christmas gift and decided to enjoy it. She glared at her clock, as if by will alone she could speed up time.

The chrome picture frame's built in chronometer defied her efforts. Perched on the back corner of the desk, the birthday gift from her daughter reported that time was still passing at its normal, mundane rate. _What joy._ It was obvious watching the clock tick wasn't going to do anything for her anxious mood, so she shifted her attention to the picture nestled carefully in the frame. She and her husband stood arm-in-arm, wearing matching jeans and tan t-shirts, both grinning at the camera. Her green eyes stared forward, brimming with laughter; crème skin seeming to glow. Her unfortunate husband had managed to get caught staring off at something that was certainly _not_ the camera, blue eyes bulging somewhat. She smiled. Part of the picture's charm was its value as a goading tool. She had no idea what he was looking at, but that was half the fun, seeing as he couldn't remember. Her eyes moved down slightly, focusing on a much shorter figure, a girl looking about six. She stood between them in a dark blue dress, smiling, an arm wrapped around her father's leg. It would have been obvious to almost anyone that the child was theirs – she enjoyed her mother's skin tone, but her eyes were most certainly her father's. Her hair was a crisp brown, shoulder length and pulled into a pony-tail. And in about three hours, Audrey would be seeing them both again.

Her reverie was interrupted by a high-pitched ringing. Her attention snapped to her videophone. She activated it, and was rewarded with the image of her smiling husband. "Hey, Danny."

"Hello, beautiful. How's your day going?"

Audrey shrugged. "Fine. Not much exciting going on – which is good, I guess. I've spent the last twenty minutes being humiliated and belittled by little devil blocks."

Daniel smirked. "I don't understand why you play _Tetris_."

"Mixture of hand-eye coordination exercise and addiction, I think." She waited for the inevitable chuckle, and then continued. "What's up?"

"Not much. I called 'cause I just heard on the news they're shutting down three lanes of Interstate 710 for maintenance tomorrow night."

Audrey's face twisted into an annoyed frown. Seven-ten was a nightmare when it was running smoothly. When it wasn't – well, fear of tardiness gave way to fear of never getting off the road again. "That's just _wonderful_. You think we're going to have a problem getting to the convention center?"

Daniel shook his head emphatically. "Of course not. We just might have to leave a little bit earlier. Say ... half an hour."

"Oh," she replied, realizing where this was going. "I'll see if I can get him to come earlier. It shouldn't be a problem. He already told me all he has to do tomorrow is finish filling out Hunter Evaluations, so his schedule should be flexible. I'll send him an e-mail and ask him about it. I think he's off the compound right now, though. Of course, he lives here, so he'll have to come back eventually."

Daniel shook his head wistfully, grinning. "It's still weird to me that_ the _Mega Man X, of all people, is our daughter's favorite babysitter."

Audrey giggled and fixed him with a faux-critical look. "So I assume you're over the illogical fear that she is somehow unsafe around the greatest Hunter alive?"

He flushed slightly. "I never thought that ... exactly. It's not like _I_ work with him. It was hard – it's still sort of difficult – to imagine him taking care of Angie. If I hadn't seen how well he did with her, I couldn't be made to believe it."

His admission was met with a lopsided grin. Before Audrey could voice her reply, however, the door to her office flew open, admitting a younger woman of African descent that looked absolutely horror-stuck. Brown eyes darted around wildly; her face was flushed, and she was visually trembling. She seemed to be in the middle of an anxiety attack. "_Audrey!_"

For a single moment, Daniel felt nothing but absolute panic. He couldn't see this new arrival, but it was perfectly clear from her tone that something _very_ wrong was afoot. His first thought was that the compound was under attack, but his mind almost immediately discounted that possibility. He was sure some sort of alarm would be blaring if Mavericks had managed to get in ... right? He forced himself to stay silent, instead listening intently when his wife spoke again.

Audrey looked at the girl, confused. Her name was Lucy Brooks, an analyst-in-training. "Lucy? What's wrong with you?" The girl attempted to answer, but only a few unintelligible squeaks escaped her lips. Audrey rose, took her hand, and led her to a chair. She couldn't help but feel like she was pulling dead weight. "Lucy, dear, try to calm down. What happened?"

Lucy didn't respond at first, but made an effort to slow her breathing and regain control of her rebelling body. Audrey finally managed to look her in the eyes, noting for the first time the tears brimming on their lids. They weren't under attack, she knew, if only because it was far too quiet for that. Finally, Lucy spoke. "He's ... he's gone."

_He's gone? What's that mean?_ Audrey did her best to ignore the odd chill that went down her spine. "Who's gone, Luce? Tell me what happened, from the top."

"It was horrible. I ... I had a headache, so I went to the infirmary to get something. Lifesaver gave me a few pills, and I was about to leave and get back to my cubicle when _they _came in." She shuddered, but managed to continue after a few moments. "It was Alia and Commander Zero. She was crying and the Commander just looked ... wrong. He was holding someone in his arms and yelling for Lifesaver."

There was that chill again. Anyone with half a brain that hung around her long enough knew Alia harbored significant feelings for the Commander of the Seventeenth Unit. Zero was with her, carrying some wounded person, and he looked "wrong." The spotter was crying. Audrey knew she had to find out what was going on before her imagination decided to go somewhere very dark. No, that wasn't it. She was already bordering on that dark place. She needed something to fling her away. "Lucy ... who was he carrying?" _This is it_, she thought, sitting down. She was about to find out what was going on. It was too late to decide whether or not she actually wanted to know.

The younger woman took another deep breath, and then continued with, "I ... couldn't recognize him at first. He was totally beat up. His armor was cracked and broken everywhere. I couldn't even tell what color it was supposed to be. Everything I could see was covered with blood, even what I could see of his face – I didn't even know reploids had blood. There was ... so much. It even looked like his hair was full of it. One of his arms was just ... gone, like something had ripped it clean off. He wasn't moving at all ... totally limp." Audrey felt her stomach knotting. She couldn't know that her still listening husband was experiencing a similar reaction. In truth, she'd forgotten he was there. Lucy spoke again. "Then, Lifesaver appeared, and led them to a diagnostic bed. It seemed like he was expecting him, but he was still really tense. They hooked him up and started scanning, I guess. A minute or so later, Lifesaver stopped watching the screen, looked at Zero and Alia, and said 'the Captain was right. He's ... he's dead. I can't recover anything. It's ... it's all gone.' I'm ... I'm not sure exactly what happened next. Alia slumped against the wall and put her face in her hands, Commander Zero was kneeling next to her ... I think he was crying. Lifesaver started yelling for everyone who didn't need medical attention to leave. I was turning to go, and I got one last look at the table where they'd put the reploid down. I," she started to tremble more forcefully, but didn't stop speaking, "saw his shoulder. I saw his crest."

Audrey winced, feeling sadness overcome her – someone had died ... violently, and they couldn't be recovered. But there was more to the story. A field Hunter's crest depicted not only the agency's emblem, but also his unit assignment and rank. "...And? What was on the crest?"

"It had ... it had Commander's pips." It was clearly getting harder and harder for Lucy to speak, but she had yet to completely give in. "And ... and the number 17." Across from her, all the color drained from Audrey's face. "Someone ... someone killed Commander X. They ... tore him apart." With that, she finally gave in, and the real sobbing began.

Audrey sat, beyond stunned, beyond disbelief. A numb feeling washed over her body – like each of her senses was immersed in pure nothingness. She wasn't aware of anything going on around her for the next few moments. Not even her alarmed, shocked husband's voice, calling to her from the videophone's speakers. Gradually, the world came back into focus, but her first thought was that it didn't feel the same. How could it, with the impossible made manifest? She knew, in that instant, that the world would never be the same again.


	2. Reactions

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) This includes any and all reference to_ Star Trek_ and the wonderful_ Star Trek _novel,_ Immortal Coil_.Thanks again to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading this. Enjoy.

  


General MacDonald cursed as he glided down a hall of the US Army's Keaton Weapons Depot. Broad shoulders rolled briskly, his thick arms hanging from joints no less than six feet above the carpeted floor. His chest shined brightly; a small fortune in medals and a formidable ribbon cluster catching and reflecting the ceiling lights' harsh white glow. The only piece of his uniform that was even slightly out of place was his cap, which was currently caught in the steel grip of his right fist. Even his regulation short-cropped black hair seemed to be in perfect alignment. It stood in sharp contrast to his lightly tanned skin and green eyes.

Those same eyes betrayed barely restrained frustration. The XCBM – _his_ project, _his_ baby – had been missing for more than twelve hours. He still had no idea how anyone had manged to steal it, let alone a private who was likely missing several vital screws. But that didn't change the fact that it was _gone_, along with the transport pad Private Henderson used to beam it out and the dozen troops on watch there – both the victims of its enhanced combat lasers. MacDonald shuddered._ All that destruction, with nothing but the lasers._ He would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes even he wondered if they had gone to far when they designed its weapon systems. _No_, he reminded himself, _it has to be able to stand up to the strongest of them._

There were still certain elements of the theft that didn't make any sense. Henderson used the pad to transport and rigged it to explode after he left. Why, when he could have used the XCBM's internal teleporter. It was actually meant to work on humans without any harmful side effects, unlike the pad. Not that they knew if it worked as promised. It was still new and mostly untested. But that was beside the point. Attempting the analyze the actions of an insane man wasn't going to get him anywhere. The fact of the matter was the prototype was gone, it had been missing for twelve hours, and there was no way to track it. He knew the only way they would find it again was when Henderson decided to start blowing things up. _Then again_, he thought, _Blake said he had an update. Since we were all but out of leads, he must have _already_ attacked._ His mind dwelling on that sour note, he arrived at Conference Room Seventeen and flung open the door, the four stars attached to the collar of his uniform shaking with the force of his swing.

The room was much as he expected it to be – large, circular conference table with three figures seated around it, the lights dimmed and the wall viewer on. It looked just like it did the first three times they'd met to discuss the theft. He took his place at the table, unable to stifle a yawn. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. He couldn't sleep, not with the XCBM lost in the wild.

MacDonald's eyes swept the table, taking in the appearance of his colleagues. There was Ben Dixon, the project's head engineer. Most of him was obscured by his ever-present white lab coat. His somewhat pale, twenty-something face and brown, bespeckled eyes revealed fatigue and nervousness, but no surprise or intrigue. Long fingers played absentmindedly with messy brown hair. _He_ didn't know what this was about. _Hell_, he thought, _he hasn't known what half this was about from the beginning._ The longer the general could ensure that that remained the case, the better.

His gaze moved on to three-star General Simon Blake, eight years his junior, his friend, and as far as this project was concerned, his second-in-command. His five-eight, ebony frame was wrapped in a uniform almost as thickly decorated as his superior's, though it had a significantly lower number of field operation ribbons. That made sense, really. Blake had somehow managed to rise to his great rank without any significant time in the field. His dark, steely eyes were young and alert; it was clear he'd never seen a single real battle as a foot soldier. Most people would say that he wasn't deserving of his rank – that he had no right to order men and women to their deaths if he purposefully avoided his own baptism by fire. MacDonald didn't think like that. He knew it took a great deal of mental acuity and manipulative skill to do what Blake had done. He respected him for that, and it was the chief reason he was in this room. A man of his talents would be needed if everything was to go as planned. One look at him made it clear he knew _exactly_ what was going on. _Good._ If someone who wasn't him had to be the first to know anything, he preferred it to be Blake.

That left a tall, slender woman of Spanish descent with dark brown hair that reached her shoulders and positively piercing green eyes. She was Renee Montalbaan, the only one present not wearing a military uniform. She instead sported a thin, black skirt and white blouse, accented by an ID tag pegging her as a member of the United Nations Security Council. To MacDonald, she was just like the body she represented – supposedly centered in good and morality but in the end amenable to pretty much whatever he contended was necessary. He had no problem with that at all. There was only one thing out of place in the room. Someone was missing. He made a mental note to ask Blake about that, taking his seat beside the younger general.

"Gentlemen, Councilwoman," he greeted tersely, "I wish I could say it was good to see you. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we're meeting yet again under less-than-good circumstances. Unless something has changed ..." He let his voice trail off, an unspoken command for someone to tell him what was going on.

As he expected, Blake answered the call. "We've had a ... development," he started, pausing long enough for MacDonald to be surprised by the apprehension in his voice, "we've recovered the XCBM." Seeing a smile break across his superior's face, Blake quickly added, "but I'm afraid there were some ... complications, not including the fact that the XCBM was destroyed."

MacDonald's expression didn't change, and his tone was untroubled. After all, they could always build another one, he knew. "I would be surprised if there weren't. Let me guess. Private Henderson is dead, right?"

Montalbaan frowned, Dixon managed to_ only _look aghast, but Blake was quite used to his friend, and not at all surprised by his seeming lack of remorse. Slightly chilled, but not surprised. "Actually, Jerry, no. He was taken into custody when Captain Winters and his team recovered the unit. That's where things get interesting."

"Ah," MacDonald grumbled, obviously disappointed. _So much for writing off _that_ loose end._ "Where is Winters, anyway? I'm surprised he didn't want to tell me the good news in person."

Something unidentifiable flashed across Simon's face, disappearing almost instantly. "I'll get to that. I think I should start with how the situation unfolded – how we got the prototype back." Everyone around the table nodded. "Alright. As you all know, when Henderson took the mecha, he bombed the teleportation pad he used to beam out. Presumably, so we wouldn't be able to trace him."

"Right," MacDonald agreed. "Any idea why he didn't just use the internal, human-safe teleporter?"

"I think I've figured that out, sir." That was Dixon, sounding slightly uncomfortable. "The XCBM's teleporter is theoretically meant to work on humans without causing any neural damage, unlike standard teleporters, which only work reliably on simple plant lifeforms and inorganics. To make a human-safe version work, a much longer, more detailed matter scanning period is required prior to matter-energy conversion ... around forty-five seconds to a minute, depending on the subject. Henderson probably assumed he didn't have that much time, and he'd been exposed to standard teleportation before. As we know, it's already damaged his mind – disqualified him from the project. I doubt he cared what would happen to him if he did it one more time."

"A reasonable assumption," Montalbaan commented quietly, speaking for the first time. "So, was he found when he tried to use the prototype's teleporter? Some kind of tracer?"

"Couldn't be," Dixon cut in, unable to completely banish an abashed tint from his voice, "we ... we didn't install the tracing beacon yet."

Blake took the opportunity to regain control of the conversation. "Exactly." A pained look washed over his face. _Might as well spit it out._ "Approximately forty minutes ago, he teleported the mecha into Cossack Park, in downtown New York, with hostile intent." His expression didn't change, but he watched his companions closely for their reactions.

Dixon, as expected, turned a lovely shade of green and seemed to lose the ability to speak. Both Blake and MacDonald agreed he was a soft, weak man. Montalbaan looked suitably stunned, but she still had her wits about her, and whatever she really thought about the situation wasn't likely to show up on her face anyway – one of the joys of dealing with a diplomat. His eyes found his commanding officer. Now there was something _interesting_.

General MacDonald sat, frowning darkly, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Blake wondered what he was thinking. It was obvious that he wasn't happy with the situation. Who would be? The variable, though, was why. Either he, like most normal people, was disturbed by the potential implied loss of life, or –

"This is could be very complicating in terms of keeping our project under wraps. How many civilian deaths do we have to spin?"

"Don't jump the gun, Jerry. We had a few civilian deaths, but they're really the least of our problems. If you'd allow me to continue?" Irritation was evident in his tone – it was taking far too long for him to get to the meat of the problem.

MacDonald nodded. "Go on." _Now what?_

Blake pressed a button on the table, and the wall viewer flared to life. Montalbaan and Dixon gasped. It displayed an overhead view of Cossack Park, taken from a low flying helicopter. "This is the scene of the incident, as taped about twenty minutes ago." Some of the slush had begun to refreeze, and the flatbed team had cleared nearly all the debris, but it was still a ruined, charred mess. Dark red stains – human blood – tainted the snow near the ruined pond where the victims' bodies had been laid out before they were removed. There was some other, darker, dried liquid scattered around that MacDonald couldn't identify. Dixon had a suspicion of what it was, but held his tongue. "According to Winters' report, Henderson beamed the XCBM into the collection of trees beyond the lake, and attacked the people in the park, with intention of killing them before moving on to the medical district a few blocks away. While he managed to get a few people too slow to get off the ice, he ran into a problem."

"What kind of problem, General?" Montalbaan asked, not liking the odd fluctuation in Blake's tone. "If we didn't stop him, what did?"

His tone stayed calm, but Blake braced himself for what he knew was coming. "Commander X of the Maverick Hunters."

"_What_? Why – how in the _hell_ did he get involved?!" MacDonald was all but screaming now, his composure utterly shot for the moment. Dixon's green complexion gave way to a pallid white. Montalbaan continued to hold her cards tight to her chest, betraying nothing. "Explain ... _now_."

Blake was unruffled. He was actually pleasantly surprised to still be standing, as opposed to lying flat on his back nursing a broken nose. "Apparently, he was just relaxing in the park when Henderson showed up and announced his presence by blasting out the pond and the people on it. X saw the teleport and assumed he was dealing with a Maverick, so he challenged it, apparently wanting to give the surviving humans time and opportunity to get out. Henderson, insane as he may be, was still clever enough to get Commander X to realize he was human."

"So you're saying the Commander knowingly attacked a human?" Dixon asked. "That's ... that's illegal," he whispered, the implications staggering.

"Only after he managed to get Hunter Headquarters to radio us without Henderson's knowledge and found out we weren't going to arrive in time to stop him from wiping out a good chunk of the city's hospital district."

"How did he get a message through without Henderson's knowledge?" MacDonald asked, already formulating a plan to deal with this latest complication.

"According to Winters' report," he gestured to a stack of four identical briefings, and everyone took one, "he opened a channel to Maverick Hunter Headquarters, cranked the gain on his transmitter, and let Henderson run his mouth until the Hunters figured out what was going on and called us."

"Alright," MacDonald said, beginning to flip through the report, "so, X tips us off, but doesn't leave ... doesn't want Henderson to hurt anybody. How noble. When exactly did the fight break out?" There was a cold, almost evil glimmer in his eyes."I'm assuming he broke the First Law. Machines like him are too destructive not to."

"Commander X engaged the mecha after he was informed by the Hunter spotter that contacted us – I believe her name was Alia – that Winters and his team were at least fifteen minutes away. Apparently Henderson gave him an ultimatum: two minutes to decide whether he wanted to leave or stay and die with the civilians remaining at the site. He apparently chose option number three. And yes, he did break the First Law. Henderson suffered a few light contusions and bruises."

"I'm sure he thought he could get away with it, considering who he is," MacDonald said darkly. "Where is he now?" _Maybe I can make an example out of the bastard._

"Destroyed, sir. He was heavily damaged when our team arrived. Winters wiped his CPU on the spot, though he was reluctant to do so. He told me himself he didn't think X should be subject to the First Law given the situation. I informed him that either he would do it, or someone else would. Must have helped him find his spine. It's all in his report."

Montalbaan said something in her native language none of the others could understand, her dark olive skin somehow looking pale.

"Oh ... _Christ_. I didn't sign up for this. This wasn't supposed to happen ... not to_ him_.Damn ..." Dixon began to breathe faster, looking as though he was fighting to stay in control of his stomach.

"Shut up, Dixon," MacDonald growled. "And while you're at it, get out. We won't be needing you for the rest of this meeting." The young engineer stood shakily, forced to use his chair to steady himself. He quickly gathered up his papers and left, but not before stumbling into a wall. When the door shut behind him, Montalbaan spoke, apparently over her shock enough to once again be able to form coherent sentences.

"Are you sure ... are you sure that was wise, General? I assume from your demeanor you're not about to contemplate canceling the project. Isn't ostracizing your chief engineer at this point a bad idea?"

"Not really," MacDonald scoffed, "Lieutenant Dixon's a smart young man. Very smart. In fact, without him, it would have been impossible to make the prototype's weapon, power, and teleportation systems work in time to meet with our current deadlines. But the fact of the matter is, he has no idea what's really going on here – what we're really trying to accomplish. I've taken great pains to keep it that way. He's a _designer_, not a builder. And he's designed a system that does, in fact, work. Those designs are fully and completely documented, and property of the United States Army. We don't need him to build more XCBMs. The phase of this project he served a vital role in is over. I assure you, madam, that you needn't worry about him. We have more important concerns.

"I'm sure you'll both agree that certain steps are going to need to be taken to ensure the integrity of our project. We cannot risk real public exposure at this stage – we're not ready. First thing's first – Simon, you said there were survivors. How many, and who are they? We're going to need to put a lid on them."

"That's a problem. We don't know who the ones that fled the scene after the battle started are. They've yet to attract any attention to themselves They're the only ones that would have seen any of the fight. X might have known who they were, but his memory was wiped."

"Damn. That is a problem. Watch the news agencies, Hunters, and local police. If any witnesses_ do _come forward, we'll need to discredit them."

Blake looked nervous. "That ... won't be possible."

"What? Why not?"

"We have two Hunter witnesses to X's deactivation. Commander Zero and the aforementioned Alia. They confiscated X's body and took it back to Hunter Headquarters in Tokyo."

MacDonald blinked. "Shit."

"Indeed," Blake offered lamely. "However, according to Winters' report, they were both pretty shaken by the whole thing. If we move fast, we can preempt anything they might attempt. I doubt they're thinking about public announcements at the moment."

"Agreed. We need to come up with a plan for dealing with this. In the meantime, we've got to keep them clammed up." He turned to Montalbaan. "Madam, as I'm sure you know, the United Nations Security Council has the capacity for direct, overriding control over all Hunter operations. Would it be possible to issue a complete and full nondisclosure order regarding the events of Mega Man X's destruction without telling them why we want them to stay silent?"

Renee looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I don't believe it would be a problem."

"Good," MacDonald was smiling again, "how long do you think it will take?"

"I can have something ready in ... ninety minutes? After that, I'll need another twenty to get it authorized and dispatched."

MacDonald nodded. For anything involving the UNSC bureaucracy, that was amazingly fast. They only moved quicker with orders when there was an immediate threat of atomization or some other form of grand, possibly quite painful, destruction. "Alright. Do it. That'll give us some time to figure out what to do to make it look like this never happened. One other thing. Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Where the hellis Winters? Is there a reason he did not show up for this meeting?"

Blake sighed. "Flip to the last section of the briefing. You'll find attached a copy of his resignation. He handed it in with the report, citing ethical conflict."

The smile didn't leave the elder general's face. "Hmm ... guess he didn't have as much of a spine as you thought. He's still bound by his own Non-Disclosure Agreement, so he's nothing to worry about. Check the rosters and find us another operator."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to find out what I can about this 'Alia.' The information may be useful later. I want everyone to think about PR strategies we can employ here. The blackout's only gonna go unnoticed for so long. We'll reconvene tomorrow morning." He stood and tugged on his coat. "Meeting adjourned." He turned briskly and left the room.

"That was pleasant," Montalbaan said wryly.

"Isn't it always? Say, I don't suppose you've had lunch?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid."

Simon shuffled his feet slightly, and actually managed to sound nervous. "I was wondering if you might like to grab a bite to eat. I don't think waiting thirty minutes to get everything rolling will hurt anything."

Renee thought about it, then smiled brightly. "Sure."

  


"Alia?" No response. Zero frowned. His friend still sat motionless against the wall, where she'd fallen when Lifesaver pronounced X unrecoverable. She hadn't moved in minutes, even as the chief medic began slowly stripping off the remains of X's armor. Zero suppressed a shiver listening sound of the reinforced blue armor being snapped off what was left of his body. Part of him was glad he had Alia to look after at the moment – it was an excuse not to watch. He turned his attention back to her. No tears, no sound, no anything. She just ... gazed off. If not for the occasional blink, he would have assumed she had fallen into stasis.

His attention was drawn to the infirmary's double doors as they flew open. A very somber Signas entered the room, sad eyes sweeping the scene. Aside from Zero, Lifesaver, Alia, and what was left of X, the infirmary was completely deserted. He noted the spotter's state, but also saw Zero crouching next to her, and knew that, for the moment, it wasn't necessary for him to intervene. He doubted there was anything he could say to her that would even begin to make her feel better. Willing his shocked mind into forming coherent thoughts was taking almost all of his willpower.

_What's left of X..._ The thought (and sight) made him as close to nauseous as a reploid could get, but the simple fact of the matter was, it was true. Mega Man X was dead – one look at the stricken Lifesaver and the complete lack of life support equipment around the diagnostic bed confirmed that. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't afford to let his grief consume him now. X _was_ dead. Zero was up and moving, but it was obvious to Signas that he was shaken to the core, and would eventually crash. That he wasn't collapsed next to Alia was amazing in and of itself. And Alia – he grimaced at the blank look in her eyes – her mental state was obvious. The pragmatic element of his brain knew he had a problem. One of his two senior Commanders – one of his friends – was never leaving the infirmary under his own power again. The other was severely traumatized – whether or not he was trying to fight it off was beside the point. It would catch up with him sooner or later. His best spotter seemed all but catatonic, and he had a pretty good idea why.

That left the trio of advisers and friends that he'd depended on since he took command of the Maverick Hunters after the Forth Uprising shattered, never to be mended again. Its two remaining elements were weakened and reeling, and it would be a long time – if ever – before either of them were as strong as they'd been before this nightmare began to play itself out. No matter what happened now, he knew the amazingly long period fate had granted him to acclimate to his role as Hunter Grand Commander was over.

Lifesaver looked up, just noticing the Commander's presence. He eased a scorched blue armor plate off X's thigh and set it aside. The ripped synthetic skin underneath glistened with drying coolant. "Welcome to hell," he said quietly.

"That's a rather harsh assessment, Doctor."

"You disagree?"

"I didn't say that. So he's really ..."

"He is. The bastards wiped everything. Hell, even his base ROM is gone ... creator information, internal specification records – every bit of it's jumbled beyond any hope of recovery."

Signas easily detected the pure, fiery anger in the physician's voice. He guessed it was much like the rage burning through his own mind. The only difference between the two of them was that Signas was a Commander – he didn't have the luxury of allowing his feelings to show through, for fear that they would be seen as tainting his judgment. Unlike a doctor, who arguably performed better when he had compassion at his disposal.

"Now what?" Zero surprised them both, speaking from his position next to Alia, who had miraculously managed to turn her head and watch Signas and the doctor. He sounded unsure of what he was saying. "What ... what are we supposed to do now, Signas?"

"I'm not sure," Signas said honestly, as Lifesaver went back to work carefully prying off armor. He didn't say it, but he was glad he had an excuse to distract himself from the grisly conversation he was having with the doctor. "I don't know how our people are going to react to this. You and I both know a good deal of reploid Hunters, especially those we've gotten since the Fourth Uprising, have no respect for the humans we protect. It's more like contempt. I think the only reason they volunteer is to make sure they and their friends don't get passively slaughtered. And that's not counting the ones that are here for ... less than stellar reasons. A nice riot isn't beyond the realm of possibility. A good deal of people are going to feel betrayed."

"Point. But it's not like those groups are anything close to a majority. The recruiters always try make sure they're here for the right reasons. And we have a good deal of loyal human Hunters with good heads on their shoulders. Still, you're right, coming right out with it doesn't seem like the brightest thing to do." _I can't believe this. He's been ... gone for less than two hours and we're already talking about how to spin it._ His disgust manifested itself on his face. He tried not to notice Lifesaver's jaw tighten. Still, he couldn't help but ask, "Do you have any ideas?"

Signas shrugged. "Honestly, I don't really want to think about it. But we've got to come up with something. Rumors are starting to spread. Not surprisingly, a lot of the people that were in the infirmary when X was brought here are starting to worry ... and assume things. There's a nasty one going around about a new Maverick General strong enough that he killed him with his bare hands."

"That's just great. Anybody remotely close to the truth?"

"No one. No one's got any idea what actually happened. The records have been locked for the moment. Honestly, who's going to suspect _that's_ what's happened? It's unthinkable," he finished darkly.

"Apparently, we need to rework our definition of that word," Lifesaver said, not looking up from the magnetic latches he was working. By now, he had the entire chest unit removed, the reinforced thigh plates, and both boots. Dirty coolant had already begun to pool on the gurney he was using to lay them out. He handled each piece of armor as though it was a sacred relic – and on some level, that was the truth of the matter. All of X's armors were custom designs left for him by Doctor Light, designed to work specifically with his systems – and only his systems. Designers and researchers like Alia had been able, through the years, to adapt some components for standard battle armor, but that's all they were – imperfect adaptations. It was not lost on anyone watching that the protective garment, like the metal shell it once covered, was now a useless piece of scrap.

"Well," Zero said, knowing if he had any bile in his body it would be rising in an effort to prevent what he was about to say, "there's one question we have to answer right now. Do we ... lie to them?"

"_No._" Alia's voice was quiet, and maybe a little distant, but it was still as forceful as ever. She stood and began walking towards the Crimson Hunter. "We will lie to no one." She fixed Zero with a misty-eyed glare. "I can't believe _you _of all people would suggest that standing in the same room with his ... his body. Damn it, Zero, X is _dead_. I don't know why you're pretending like he's not."

"Alia, I don't know what –"

"Of course you know what I mean. You're his best friend Zero, his _brother_. That's how I know you're not accepting this. If you were, you couldn't be acting so ... so damned _clinical_. If you don't want to confront reality right now, that's fine. But don't you dare try and make decisions as though that isn't X. As much ... as much as I hate to admit it, you knew him a lot better than I ever will. What would _he _want us to do, Zero?"

Zero worked his mouth, but no sound came out. Alia turned to Signas, her effort to avoid looking at X's body not going unnoticed. "We can't lie to them, sir. We just can't. It would be like admitting we didn't believe X did the right thing."

Signas didn't say anything. Apparently, he had misjudged her mental state. Whether this new behavior was better or worse than what he'd been expecting, he couldn't be sure – only time would tell. As for what she said – he found himself agreeing. They were X's friends – it was their responsibility to honor his memory. It was a responsibility he gladly accepted. That only made the decisions he would have to make in the next few days more difficult.

"She's right," Zero said lowly. "We can't tamper with the truth. But that leads us right back to our original problem. What's the best way to announce the passing of someone most people like to think is immortal?"

"That's the problem," Signas began, "if that's how most people think of him, learning he's been killed is likely to cause nothing short of panic. They need to ... acclimate to the idea."

"What do you mean?" Alia asked, confused.

"Well, it's fairly obvious no one here is quite sure how to tell them the complete truth. We're going to need time to figure out how to do it right. In the meantime, we _can_ ... confirm the baseline rumor. People can start to deal with the shock, and then, when they find out exactly what happened, they might be a little more prepared."

"I guess ... that's a start," Zero said quietly.

"Yeah," Alia whispered, her earlier forcefulness nonexistent. _This is it, then. He's gone. Time to ... time to start to press on_. She felt her head start to spin again, the same way it had when Lifesaver confirmed that X was dead, but she forced it to stop. She couldn't yield to her emotions now. There would be a time for that later. At the moment, she had a part to play in assuring that this didn't become any more of a disaster than it already was – that was the promise she'd made.

"I'm going to go start work on a statement and ... update the records," Signas said, turning for the door, "if any of you need anything, let me know." The room was silent save the hiss of the sliding doors. Updating the records meant authorizing Lifesaver's amendment to X's files, confirming his death for the computer. It would trigger, among other things, the release of X's final orders, will, and any other files he had encrypted and sealed in anticipation of his demise. His quarters would be sealed until the person (or persons) he'd granted permission to enter them attempted to do so. Zero knew from experience that the entire process was likely to start in about four hours. It was generally considered improper to bombard the grieving with paperwork and potential responsibility immediately after confirmation of death. Though why only four hours had been deemed adequate time to prepare, no one was quite sure.

"Zero, could you give me a hand?" Lifesaver asked, shaking the blond berserker from his thoughts. "I need to get the back armor off."

"Okay, what do you want me to – oh," he cut himself off as Lifesaver gestured at X's shoulders. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that the doctor only had two hands. Alia watched mutely, unable to look away as Zero gently grasped X's whole arm and the base of his neck, supporting his head. He eased X's torso up until he was holding him in a sitting position, but was unable to keep his friend's limp head from slumping forward slightly. Lifesaver quickly went to work on the magnetic locks holding the remaining scorched, ripped enhanced titanium armor in place. With a final click, he pulled it away.

"That's it, the last of the armor is off. You can let him down now. I'll clean him up and put him in a stasis tube until we have a better idea of what we want to do."

"Alright," Zero said, looking blankly at his now coolant-stained gloves. A great deal of the dark liquid had pooled underneath X's armor, and Zero couldn't help but think it looked like his lifeless friend was bleeding all over again. Lifesaver handed him a towel.

  


Hunter Headquarters' main commissary, a spacious, whitewashed meeting hall, was packed with at least one-hundred and fifty humans and reploids. It was only 1:30, so many of the former were still finishing lunch. Viewers built into the walls (and the one behind the rather large bar at the end of the room) were tuned to Global News Network. As far as the tall, spry reploid walking in was concerned, everything was as it should be.

The animaloid, modeled after a white tiger, was a good six and a half feet tall. He stood erect, the synthetic fur that covered most of his body bristling as immense ceiling fans circulated the air. His construction was what most reploids and designers would consider peculiar. A thick layer of armor was actually underneath his synthetic skin, eliminating the need for him to wear external protective gear in combat. A lot of people envied him for it, since he was armored even during covert undercover operations – when most other Hunters would be forced to enter dangerous situations with only their wits to protect them. Personally, he didn't feel it was worth any jealousy. In concert with the retractable adamantine claws in his fingers, his exoskeleton made a lot of people nervous around him. For some reason, whenever people learned about the more eclectic elements of his design, they made unsavory assumptions about his personality. Being second-in-command of Unit Seventeen didn't help matters. Despite popular opinion, he wasn't predisposed to causing explosions. He was just _very _good at it.

"Quinn! Over here!"

The reploid, hearing his name, jerked his head in the direction of the sound. His eyes found a table with three figures sitting around it, one – the female owner of the voice – gesturing wildly in an attempt to get his attention. He smiled, nodded, and began to move towards them.

"What's up, guys?" he asked a few moments later, pulling out a chair. He glanced around him, taking in the appearance of his companions. They were all humanoids; all members of the Seventeenth. The first was short and stocky, with brown eyes, red hair, and a fair complexion, and seemed to be in a pretty good mood – Aaron. He noted that he was in his armor, minus helmet. Everyone else was, too, he realized. Apparently, he wasn't the only member of his unit on standby. His eyes moved to a taller male, busy trying to solve a crossword puzzle with one hand while he twiddled an ebony ponytail with the other. He nodded at Quinn as he took his seat – Onyx, their demolitions expert. That left Beth. She was about five-ten, with wavy brown hair pulled back between her shoulders, piercing jade eyes, and an alabaster complexion. It was_ her _voice that flagged him down.

"Not much," she said pleasantly, "just waiting for an alarm to go off, I guess."

"No hurries," Onyx interjected huskily, "we can nearly get our heads blown off anytime. Opportunities to try and win a free hoverbike are few and far between."

"Huh?" Quinn blinked. "I thought you were doing a crossword puzzle."

"I am. If I get it right, and send it in, I'm eligible for a drawing to win one of those new Harleys."

Aaron scoffed. "There's no way you're gonna win that thing, bro. You didn't buy any of the 'complementary discounted magazine subscriptions.'"

"Don't be so cynical. The world is full of amazing things. For example, Quinn here actually likes wearing those leather pants of his."

Quinn reddened. "This isn't leather. It's a woven titanium-steel mesh. It's very flexible, I'll have you know. Lots better than that purple monstrosity you call armor, if you ask me." Okay, so there were a few advantages to having what amounted to a reinforced exoskeleton. It meant his standard duty uniform was a tight fitting black jumpsuit that covered everything but his arms, neck and head. His tail (something he still couldn't figure out why his designer included in his schematic) was curled around his waist like a belt.

"I like it," Beth told him, winking. "It shows off your fur. Your fur is cute."

Onyx snickered. "I stand corrected."

Aaron chuckled. "So, what brings you here, Quinn? Come to deprive our human friends of their nourishment?" He gestured at the chocolate sundae he was poking at with a spoon.

"I don't think they consider that nourishment, buddy. Anyway, I'm looking for the Commander. Anybody seen him?"

"Nope," Onyx began, "not me."

"Sorry, no idea here," Aaron volunteered helpfully. "I think he's off base. No idea why, though."

"Men are so unobservant," Beth cut in, smirking.

"Meaning?" Quinn asked, trying to sound offended but doing a poor job of it.

"What special event is in four days?" she asked, still smirking.

Aaron blinked, not understanding. Onyx snickered, a knowing grin plastered on his face. Quinn's eyes lit up. "Oh! Alia's birthday present!"

Onyx clapped a black gloved hand over the cat's mouth. "Shut up, fool. We're not supposed to know about that. And if she hears about it from one of us – I don't know about you, but I have no aspirations of becoming a member of the lavatory maintenance crew."

"Do you think that's all he would do to us?" Aaron asked slyly, happy in his realization of what exactly was going on. "Someone still needs to get the wine stains out of the rec room carpet, and there's the matter of that sticky stuff under the couch that no one can identify. I think it's growing."

"Maybe we should put a sample of it in old Siggy's air ducts when they figure out where his base of the month is. Maybe it'll eat them."

"You wish," Beth snorted. "Then again, I doubt anyone's gonna get up the nerve to touch it anytime soon."

"Remind you of a certain blue armored Commander?"

"_Quinn_! That is _so _not appropriate!"

"You disagree, Beth?" He was smirking again, mightily.

"I didn't say that. Need I remind you it took you six months to work up the nerve to ask me out?"

As quick as it appeared, the smirk was gone, replaced by a deep blush. "I believe we were discussing X, _dear._"

"Indeed," Beth replied. "You're right, though. I don't know what's taking them so long. It's so obvious Alia likes him. And he ... he likes her too. I think."

"Of course he does. He's just ... confused about what to do about it." Among the group, Onyx was arguably the authority on X's personality quirks. He'd been a member of the Seventeenth longer than everyone else, excepting the Blue Bomber. The only reason he wasn't second-in-command was because he repeatedly refused the job. As to why, no one was sure – it was something he discussed only with X.

"Confused?" She looked quizzical. "What's there to be confused about? If you think you like someone, you act on it. Then again," she shot a mock-glare at Quinn, "some people have a little trouble with that concept."

"It's not always that simple, Beth," Onyx spoke, his tone taking on an aged quality that suited his years, "for people like X especially. I've been doing this for a decade. I've been in a lot of battles; walked away from a few hundred close encounters with death. But, perhaps most importantly, I've seen far too many of my friends die. I'll be honest. It gets harder and harder to open up to people after you watch enough of them put in the ground. X is twenty-six years old. He's been a Hunter for almost as long. Imagine how many friends _he's_ seen die. Imagine how difficult it is for him to open up to people. And deciding that you want to pursue a relationship with someone? That's beyond simple friendship. The thought that you might lose that person – the fact that your life has made you, on some level, _expect _to see your friends die – that only makes it so much harder. And don't you think there's a part of him that doesn't want to put her in that same position, of mourning someone she loved and knew loved her, if he should fall?"

No one said anything as the relatively old reploid's words sunk in. Attempting to understand the mental workings of the friendly, if not slightly introverted, Commander was something most people shied away from. However, no one doubted the validity of what Onyx said – few in the room had known X longer, and his words rang with a cold logic none of them could refute.

Their thoughts, and any responses, were interrupted by the high-pitched tone that burst from every speaker in the room – a compound-wide high-priority announcement was imminent. An instant later Signas' visage filled the viewers. All conversation died as attention was turned to the Grand Commander.

"He doesn't look right," Quinn said evenly.

"No, he doesn't," Onyx nodded slightly, "look at his eyes." _This can't be good. He looks so ... vacant, detached._

_"Attention all Hunters. This is Commander Signas. I ... have an announcement. As some of you may be aware, Commander X was checked into the infirmary approximately one hour and ten minutes ago."_

"Checked into the infirmary?" Beth asked, aghast. Why would they announce _that_? X was a Hunter. He checked into the infirmary all the time. Aside from that, wasn't he supposed to be off duty? She looked around. Her companions looked just as confused.

_"Some people who were in the infirmary at the time have begun to speculate about his condition. I have decided to issue this announcement to put those rumors to rest."_

"Something's wrong here," Aaron said anxiously. "Something's wrong with his tone."

_"Approximately twenty-five minutes ago ... Commander Mega Man X was pronounced dead on arrival following a battle with ... hostile forces. I am unable to release any further details at this time, save to say that he gave his life that others would live. I think I speak for all of us when I say that he will not be forgotten. Information on the memorial service will be announced as soon as it is finalized. That's ... that's all I have for now. Godspeed. Signas out."_

Signas' face winked out, replaced by the rather bimbo-looking talking head from the Global News Network that had been rambling on when the Grand Commander broke into the channel. The only difference being her voice could now be easily heard – all other noise in the room had died, utterly and completely. About thirty seconds later, an ashen faced human behind the bar managed to find the mute button, and there was nothing but silence.

Aaron's spoon slipped from his hand, making a dull clattering sound as it hit the floor. He slumped backwards. "Tell me ... tell me that didn't just happen." The annoying news anchor was back now. It would have been so easy to believe that was just some bizarre hallucination, if not for the absolute death of all activity in the room.

"I could, but I would be lying," Onyx said lowly, almost inaudibly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to abate the tears starting to form. On one level, he wasn't surprised. The average life expectancy of a front line Hunter was about seven years. The fact that X had managed to cheat death for almost three decades was nothing short of a miracle, and he knew it. Still, that didn't make the fact that the law of averages had caught up with his old friend any easier to deal with. _Damn it. I can't believe someone finally managed to ... What the hell is going on? Why weren't we dispatched if he was in trouble? I've seen the roster ... he wasn't even supposed to be_ active_._ _They're not telling us everything..._

Quinn said nothing. His bright orange irises burned with sadness, disbelief, confusion, and a fair amount of anger. Someone had killed his commander, a man that had been his friend for almost four years, almost as long as he'd been assigned to X's unit. But that anger was not directed at whatever bastard had managed to get off the lucky shot – and he was sure it was a lucky shot, and nothing more – that ended the life of Mega Man X. It was a fully internal affair. For thirteen months, Quinn had been second-in-command of Unit Seventeen. That meant it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of the unit and back up its Commander whenever necessary. He couldn't shake the mass of guilt beginning to form in the pit of his stomach; couldn't dismiss the simple question nagging at his conscience: if he had been there to back his Commander up, would X have fallen? _No. Stop it. I can't think like that. I don't even know the circumstances of his death. I can't jump to conclusions. I have to be careful now._ He shook his head slightly, as if flinging the unsavory thoughts from his mind. _That's right_, a sardonic inner-voice sneered, _you've gotta be careful. Now, this is _your_ show._ And that was true enough. With X gone, command of the Seventeenth would fall to whomever he'd chosen to replace him in the event of his death. The Azure Hunter had made several subtle indications that Quinn was that man. And even in the event that that wasn't the case, he was X's Lieutenant Commander, so until someone said otherwise, he was in charge of the unit. _Big shoes_, he couldn't help but think, _too big_.

He became abruptly aware of a quick movement to his left, where Beth was, and it occurred to him that she'd yet to voice a reaction to the announcement. He turned his head, and realized why.

Beth was terrified – it was obvious to anyone who looked at her. Her skin was pallid; her teary eyes wide. She seemed to be attempting to say something – her lips were moving, but no sound could be heard. Under the table, Quinn took one of her shaking hands in his own, relieved when he felt her give him a light squeeze. There were some people, he knew, who would criticize her for her reaction, say it was something more fitting of a rookie. And he would have, without much fanfare, thrown anyone crude enough to say that through a wall. A lot of people forgot that a Hunter's true introduction to the horrors of combat came during war. Beth, though she'd been involved in a number of small-scale skirmishes and operations, had joined the Hunters only eighteen months ago, shortly after the Sixth Uprising. In any case, the notion that X was an immortal had yet to completely vanish from her mind.

"Beth," Quinn ventured, "are you going to be okay?"

"... I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "Figures I'd be the only one to completely lose my cool."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Onyx said darkly. "How do you think you're supposed to act? It's not every day that hell freezes over."

"I know. But ... I've seen the records. Who ... what could kill _him_? He's flattened _armies_. Alone." She made no effort to hide the fear she felt. If anyone chose to fault her for it, that was their problem.

"I don't know," Quinn said, his own tone beginning to mimic Onyx's, "but we're going to find out. And if that person ... or thing ... is still at large, we're going to find them. They will not escape justice. We'll see to that."

  


__The Commander of Unit Zero, now arguably the most powerful being on earth, collapsed onto his couch, all the strength gone from his body. "Computer, lock door, lights off..." he trailed off, a part of him preferring to sit in the darkness. He'd just reluctantly left Alia at the door to her quarters after her assertion that she "needed to be alone." Part of him was amazed he'd managed to get her to leave the infirmary so easily when Lifesaver began the gruesome task of cleaning up the body. She was worrying him. She was far too emotionless, too detached. It wasn't right. She'd been sobbing since the slug passed through X's skull, and for a solid ten minutes, she was as good as catatonic. Then it just ... stopped. Who was he kidding – he knew exactly what she'd done. She'd put it away – all her grief, anger, any emotion whatsoever – banished it to some dark, solitary place, to be dealt with later. He remembered doing something similar when Iris died, but not so ... instantaneously. Under any other circumstances, the speed at which Alia bottled her emotions _might _have been impressive, but at the moment, it frightened him. For some reason, he remembered reading an an antique _Star Trek _novel, one X had let him borrow: _Immortal Coil_. He'd wanted Zero to read it and pay attention to the android crew member – Data. Someone whose society saw him as an equal, entitled to full rights and protection under the law. At the time, the Blue Bomber had said something along the lines of "if only it could be like this." After finishing the book, Zero understood – Data's life was one any sane reploid would desire. Yet he began the novel by being forced to deal with death. The strain proved too much for his cybernetic brain, and his emotions were automatically deactivated. _If only it were that easy_, Zero thought bitterly. But he was considering Alia, and what made him think of the book was the postulation that even if one can wall off their emotions, one can never really get away from them. Even Data had to eventually confront and conquer his grief – disabling his emotions simply caused his sadness to hibernate. It would be right there waiting for him when he reactivated the chip.

Alia couldn't deactivate her emotions, but she was quite adept at containing them. But Zero knew a bit about that himself, and he was quite aware that despite her best efforts, something would eventually set her off, and the barrier she'd constructed in her mind, no matter how strong she'd tried to make it, would fail. He could only hope that when that happened, no one would be in the process of trying to kill them all.

That left Zero to deal with _his_ grief. He didn't want to. He didn't want to feel the pain of loss – of a loved one's death – again. But the bitter truth was simple: he already was; it was inescapable. He was a reploid; a being with perfect, everlasting photographic memory. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw X's limp body just as it was when he turned it over in the snow. The unseeing, lifeless eyes peering up at him. The face that was seemingly deflating before his eyes as coolant seeped from the bullet hole.

He shivered. No, closing his eyes was a bad idea. It wasn't fair. He wanted to lock himself away in his room, to deprive himself of all sensory input. But he couldn't. Even without infrared or thermal optics engaged, there was still enough ambient light coming in through the crack under the door and the window shutters for his CPU to oh-so-thoughtfully extrapolate a dim picture of his living room. Since when did simply closing one's eyes become so complicated? _Superior beings my ass,_ he thought bitterly.

_Now what?_ he thought, subconsciously making an effort not to blink. He wanted to confront his emotions – he needed to in order to function. X was gone, Sigma wasn't. He had to be at his best now. And as much as he hated to admit it, his best was contingent on his ability to tap into that innate, limitless fury that his creator had seen fit to curse him with. In his current state, he wasn't sure he could do that, not with so much sorrow pent up inside him. That left him with one thing to do – something his body had tried to force him into when he was standing over his best friend's body. He lowered himself into a supine position, and for the first time since Iris died in his arms all those years ago, Zero cried.


	3. Dark and Darker Still

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) Thanks to to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading this. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. This includes all references to Sesame Street. Also, I figured I should put in a note about expected length. I originally intended for this story to be about six chapters, including the prologue. However, it would seem that it's more likely to be eight or nine. Enjoy.

  


"Signas out."

With a stab of the finger, the Grand Commander of the Maverick Hunters ended his base-wide transmission. His internal chronometer insisted it had only taken just under two minutes, but it felt like the longest speech he'd ever given – or would ever give again. And now, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself. _I can't believe they did this! Fools!_

Signas slid down in his chair and ran a hand over his face. He didn't know how to proceed, not with the cards he'd been dealt. Sometimes he just didn't understand the humans in power. They always expected reploids to protect them, to keep the economy chugging along, to do nothing short of support a race that had forgotten how to take care of itself, no matter what rights and dignities were denied them.

_What a joke. It's much easier to count the rights we _do _have. Certainly a much shorter list. Of course, there's always the chance it won't be like this forever. That someday, when we finally do manage to get rid of the Mavericks, someone will be able to work on making it right. Making it the way it _should_ be. That's what X believes ... no, what he believed. And now, now they've done _this_. Sure, it was legally required, but ... damn them! This Winters guy tried to get them to call it off. What were they thinking?! Forget _us_, here. Surely__ they don't think reploids around the world are just going shrug this off. They executed – murdered – a hero, a symbol ... my friend ... for injuring a killer who had the great fortune to be born human. After all that's happened, after all the times he saved them from extinction ... It seems a human murderer is still more worthy of life than a reploid champion._

That was the problem. After all this time, most people still perceived reploids as less than alive. It was far easier to think of them all as nothing but soulless machines quite good at emulating the behavior of humans. That's how anything like the current situation could come to pass. _And what incentive do they have to change those views? Sigma and his ilk do nothing but try to exterminate them. They'll never trust us at this rate. But now ... after the truth gets out, how many of us are still going to be willing to trust _them_? To fight for _them_? I can't help but wonder if this whole damned, twisted caste system they've set up is about to collapse._

The soft beeping of his office's doorbell shook Signas out of his thoughts. _Now what?_ "Come in."

Black double doors opened with a hiss, revealing Douglas. Signas wasn't really surprised to see him. He was the only member of the senior staff that wasn't in on this mess from the beginning. The Commander imagined he probably wanted to know what was going on. Without a word, the Hunters' stocky chief engineer seated himself across from Signas. The Grand Commander locked eyes with him. _He knows._

"I've been in the armory's basement for the last six hours," Douglas began quietly, "it's inventory day, you know." Signas nodded. There were no video terminals in the armory basement. "I got back up here about ten minutes ago. Ran into one of Zero's guys. He filled me in on your ... announcement."

"Amazing how much the world can change in six hours, isn't it?" Signas deadpanned.

"Mind blowing."

"You have no idea."

"What?"

"Nothing. I ... guess you want to know what really happened."

"Pretty much, yeah. It's not pretty out there, Signas," Douglas said, motioning at the door he'd passed through moments earlier. "No one's completely panicked yet from what I can tell, but everyone's on edge. Excepting of course the fair number of people I've run into that are in walking-zombie mode. Commander Jared told me the intelligence chief dismissed almost everybody on shift in his department. Everything but communications monitoring and critical analysis has been shut down until Monday." His tone sharpened. "But yeah, I would very much like to know what the hell happened, and what we're gonna do about it."

Signas' expression darkened. He knew Jericho, the chief spook, pretty well. He was a good man. It didn't surprise him that he was giving his subordinates an opportunity to grieve. In fact, he had no problem with it. It indicated that underneath his taciturn attitude and cloak-and-dagger tenancies, Jericho had a good heart. What bothered him was that he was hearing about it only now, second-hand, from someone who'd only been in on today's happenings for ten minutes. He knew everyone was rattled, but it was important that the internal communication and reporting protocols be maintained. Especially right now. It was not the time for careless mistakes. _Can't worry about it too much. Everyone has to be shell-shocked. As long as it doesn't keep happening, it shouldn't be a problem. And if it does, well, I'll deal with it then._ He turned his attention back to Douglas. "Alright. You're part of the senior staff, Douglas. You have every right to be in on the current situation. But keep in mind that the announcement I issued earlier represents the extent of the information I want widely available at this time. For now, what I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room. After you've been brought ... up to speed ... that'll make a little more sense. It started about an hour and thirty-five minutes ago, I guess..."

  


"... After that, I left the infirmary and prepared to issue the announcement," Signas sighed and leaned back in his chair, relieved to have finished the story. With any luck, he'd only have to tell it one more time at the most.

"Unreal." Douglas sat motionless, his face unreadable. He had remained silent throughout Signas' tale, if only because whenever he started to say something the Commander added another chunk of information that sent his brain into a new tailspin. The anger he'd initially felt had fallen away. It was still there, of course, and just as potent, but it no longer clouded his shocked mind. After all, what good would rage do when there was nothing he could do with it? Douglas was an engineer by training, and it showed in his thoughts. Fury was fine when it could be channeled and used to accomplish something. The current circumstances ... well, he could harbor all the hate he wanted for the system that led to the death of his friend, but there was nothing he could hope to _do_ with it. That left him with nothing save a dull, unyielding sorrow. In addition to the general situation, there was something else troubling him, though his mind was too disoriented to pin it down. "So ... what's the next move?"

"I'm not sure. I want to do the full in-house disclosure before we do the public announcement. I've already told our PA office to sit on it. It'll be easier – and I use that term loosely – if our people know what's really going on before we tell the public anything. And telling the world the entire story ... I dread that the most. Can you imagine what this is gonna do when it gets out? I was never worried about rioting _here_, but once we go public ..."

Douglas nodded, then jerked his head up to look at the Grand Commander, eyes widened slightly. "What about Sigma? He's still out there. He may be laying low, but we know he's reasserted himself. Anything we release to the public, baldy's gonna see. His reaction's just as important as anyone else's, if not more."

Signas groaned. The Maverick Commander added a whole other set of variables to the situation. Yet another thing he didn't like having to think about. "I know. If we're not careful – no, I take that back – no matter what we do, there's a high likelihood he's going to try to _use_ this. X died because he broke a law, that, had he observed, would have resulted in the deaths of who knows how many humans. I expect he'll try to make a martyr out of him."

"Great," Douglas scoffed. "Damn! How is it that only the most idiot of idiot humans stay in control of the government?"

"I don't know, but the fact that reploids are prohibited from holding office doesn't help. As for Sigma ... I have no doubt he'll attempt to use X's death to his advantage once he's aware of the circumstances. Unfortunately, I can't say for certain that he won't succeed. But we've got plenty of other things to worry about that we actually have the potential to have control over, so I want to focus on them."

"Good plan. So what _is _next?"

"Well, you're the engineer," he said with a touch of dark humor, "how feasible is time travel?"

"It depends," Douglas returned, in the same sardonic tone. "Going forward is easy. We're doing it now. However, I doubt that's the direction you're interested in."

Signas chuckled, in spite of himself. "It isn't. We're still waiting on the computer to executing X's termination protocols. Things are sure to get even more ... complicated when that happens. In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out the best time and way to tell everyone else what I've just told you. I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

Douglas frowned. "I can barely believe it myself. Telling the Hunter masses isn't something I think I'd be very good at. But whatever you decide to do, you've got my full support. You're good at your job, Signas. You'll make the right decision."

Signas smiled lightly. "Thanks, Douglas." _That means a lot._

"Sure thing. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my office. I'm sure there's something there for me to do."

"Of course. See you later. Once I think up a plan, I'll likely call a meeting of the senior staff to discuss it."

Douglas nodded, and rose to leave. As he approached the door, it hissed open, and he stopped in his tracks. The bad feeling he'd been unable to identify earlier clarified as his eyes fell on the abandoned terminal belonging to the spotter of the Seventeenth Unit. He stumbled back a few steps. "Oh, my ... Alia." He felt like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs, which was odd, seeing as he wasn't breathing. The next thing he knew, he found himself back in his seat. "I can't believe that just now occurred to me ... and she had to watch when they ... poor girl. She must be a wreck."

"She isn't taking it well, I'm afraid. Whether she wants to admit it or not. I can't help but wonder ... if it would have been better or worse for her if she'd told him she ... was interested in him."

The last of his defenses destroyed, Douglas finally began to cry in earnest. "I guess that's a moot question now. Those human sons of –" A shrill beep cut him off – Signas' intercom.

The Commander hit the receive button. "Signas here. Go ahead."

"This is Lifesaver. Activate the television mode on your terminal."

Douglas raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The doctor sounded almost ... panicked? "What? What's going on?"

"Just turn it on, Commander. Any channel. It's everywhere."

Signas shrugged, spun his terminal around so Douglas could see it too, and turned on the Global News Network. In unison, their eyes widened. Douglas found his voice first. "Oh –"

"Shit," Signas finished, eyes narrowing.

  


Audrey stepped into the foyer of her one story, two bedroom house and began peeling off her overcoat and gloves. She tried to ignore the fact that her hands were shaking slightly; her nerves weren't fairing well. She hated to admit it, but for the moment, she felt a lot safer locked in her house than out on the streets. _Then again_, she thought as the snow in her hair started to melt under the influence of the heater, _now that I'm home, Danny and I have got to figure out what to tell Angie. Dear God ... This is not a conversation I ever wanted to have with her._

__Unfortunately, she knew she had to tell her daughter _something ... _soon, preferably before the news of X's death was released to the public. It was her own fault, really. Seven months ago, in a pinch, she'd accepted the legendary Commander's offer to sit with her daughter whilst she and her husband attended an attorney's banquet. And amazingly, despite an incident with exploding lasagna (which he spent two hours cleaning up), it went very well. X proved to be the best – and cheapest – sitter she'd ever hired. That one night had turned into two, two into three, and eventually, X was her daughter's favorite babysitter. At some point she couldn't quite determine, he'd gotten to be very good friends with she and her husband – even spending an afternoon trying to help Daniel fix his motorcycle. Amazingly, after being electrocuted several times by a faulty power unit, X still attested to enjoying the experience.

"Damn it," she whispered, mentally kicking herself, "letting her get attached to a field Hunter, especially _him_, was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever done."

"Maybe," a soft, masculine voice called out, "but you weren't the only one that didn't see a problem with it. And if we're to be damned for being optimists who don't look for disaster behind every door, then so be it."

Audrey jumped slightly, but felt no panic or surprise – she recognized the voice. Instead, she turned to see the sadly smiling face of her husband. An instant later, she embraced him with the most powerful grip she could muster. "Hey."

"Hey. It's good to have you home. I thought you weren't going to be off for another couple hours."

"I wasn't. Jericho let everyone off early, though. Signas issued an announcement to confirm the rumors. No one was really in much shape to work after that. I left right after we managed to get Lucy calmed down."

"I'm not surprised," Danny said slowly, looking slightly uncomfortable with what he was about to ask. "So, uh, how did it happen? What's going on?"

Audrey frowned sharply. "They didn't tell us."

__"_What_? But you said Signas issued an announcement to confirm X's ... status."

"He did. He confirmed that he was dead, but said he couldn't release any more information right now. It was weird, he just said X had died battling 'hostile forces.'"

"That seems odd," Daniel said quietly.

"It is," she returned, moving towards the kitchen in hopes of finding some iced tea. Daniel followed close behind. "Very, very strange, actually."

"What do you mean?" he asked, following her into their living room and joining her on a black leather couch.

"No one knows anything about what happened to him, except for Signas, and, I'll bet, the senior staff. All we know is that someone killed him, but something's off."

"How so?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable and not at all liking not knowing exactly what was going on.

"I mean, my God, X is _dead_, and all they did was announce it. Something's out there that managed to kill someone who can – could take down hordes of Mavericks bigger, faster and nastier than him, without help. That's something extremely powerful, and it's not on our side."

"Okay," Danny said, beginning to understand what she was thinking. "So, aside from the announcement, there wasn't any kind of official reaction, was there? That's what's creeping you out."

"Exactly. X is dead. Whatever took him out had to be really nasty to do the job. And we're not even on the lowest of alert statuses, as though we don't expect to have to deal with it again. Hell, when I left the building, we were on compound-wide Condition Green. And another thing – this wasn't a planned battle. I have it on good authority that X was off duty. Something doesn't add up."

Daniel nodded; he agreed. But at the same time, he knew neither of them was currently in a position to figure things out. "From what you've told me, I don't doubt they're withholding information. But I'm sure they have a good reason. From what I've always heard, Hunter Command isn't fond of internal cloak-and-dagger maneuvers. Unlike some military organizations," he added darkly. Audrey tensed, the last thing she wanted right now was to bring up Daniel's departure from the military justice machine. Fortunately, it wasn't something he was too interested in, either. "But in any case, I think that's the least of _our_ problems at the moment," he sighed.

Audrey groaned. "I know. At least we have a little bit of time to decide how to tell her. I dropped by the PA office to see what the official word going out was. Apparently, they're not authorized to publicly release any information on X's death. At this point, as far as the public is concerned, X is still alive. According to the kid I talked to, Signas wants to give all of us time to grieve privately before he hands the press the story of the century."

"Makes sense," Daniel nodded solemnly. It was certainly how he would have handled the situation._ But then again, I was always told I was too sentimental to get very far in the military. I can't help it if I'm partial to my soul. _Audrey was waiting patiently for him to say something. So he did. "It's gotta be today. She's expecting him to show up tomorrow so we can ... go to the concert."

"We ... can't go. Not after we tell her."

Daniel jerked, as though physically struck, surprise all over his face. "You didn't think I was ... actually suggesting we should ... I would never ..."

"No, no," Audrey's eyes widened, "I know you wouldn't ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Not at all."

Now it was Daniel's turn to groan. "This just sucks."

"Yeah. Where _is_ Angie, by the way? It just occurred to me that she shouldn't be overhearing us."

Daniel nodded. "Don't worry. She's watching TV in her room. Documentary on stag beetles, last time I looked."

Any other time, Audrey might have giggled. They had a very odd six-year-old. Angie was quite smart for a girl her age, and it showed in the kinds of entertainment she liked. But she was still just six, and what they had to tell her wouldn't be something she would be able to easily deal with. It was hard enough for Audrey's adult mind to wrap itself around the situation. Any response she might have been readying was cut off by the ringing of the videophone. "Oh – who's that going to be?"

Daniel shrugged. "I'll get it. Be right back."

A few seconds later, his voice could be heard from the kitchen. "Hello? ... Hey Steve. Is everything okay? You sound kind of jumpy. ... _What_? No, no, I haven't had the TV on in hours. My God. Yeah, yeah, of course I would want to know. Thanks for calling me Steve. ... Stay safe. Bye." He terminated the call and started moving quickly back to the couch.

Audrey was startled at how pale his skin was. He looked very, very disturbed. "What are you doing, Danny?" He was fumbling with the television remote. "What did Steve want?" It occurred to her that she didn't like the look in his eyes, at all.

"They know."

"Who's they? What do they know?" Daniel's hand found the power button, and he turned on GNN. Audrey gasped. "Oh, God."

Across the room, plastered across their television screen, was the same blond, vacant looking woman Quinn and his friends had seen earlier. Only this time, she had something a little more interesting to talk about. Across the bottom of the screen, in bold red lettering, was the headline: "MAVERICK HUNTER MEGA MAN X DESTROYED." As Daniel turned up the volume, Audrey whispered, "There's been a leak ... that's not supposed to ... oh, my God. We have a mole ..."

And what a mole it was. The volume rose high enough that the newscaster's excited, slightly edgy voice could be heard:

  


_"Thanks, Jim. For those of you just joining us, we have received word from a source inside Maverick Hunter Headquarters in Tokyo that the reploid Mega Man X, legendary Hunter Commander, was destroyed earlier today during a battle with what have only been referred to as 'hostile forces.' The Maverick Hunter PA Office has neither confirmed nor denied anything. As you know, GNN does not broadcast stories that are not to rooted to some degree in fact. Our inside source has furnished us with this video."_

  


Before the startled eyes of Daniel and Audrey, and millions of other people worldwide, Signas' in-house broadcast filled the screen. The coloration looked slightly artificial, and the image jittered slightly. But the sound was good enough. _Hidden camera_, Audrey thought darkly, d_amn it! Someone's got a lot of nerve. But who would have the gall to do_ this_?_ _This isn't good. Not at all._ Then something else struck her, and she turned a pale shade of green. Fear filled her eyes.

"Audrey?" Daniel asked, struck at his wife's abrupt change of mood.

"Oh, Good Lord! He's going to find out. They didn't want him to find out yet, if he didn't already know. And for whatever reason, it seemed like they didn't think he did."

Daniel blinked. _That _hadn't made any sense. "He? He who?"

"Sigma," She spat coldly.

Daniel felt his stomach lurch. That was something that hadn't occurred to him yet. But then he remembered something else, and his mood lightened, just a little. "But, Sigma's dead. X killed him in the last Uprising. Again. You said you saw the report yourself."

Audrey looked conflicted, having just realized she'd released confidential information. Did she tell him the truth, or try to cover her tracks? She looked into his eyes. Given the present situation, it wasn't a difficult decision to make. "Daniel," she began quietly, "what I'm about to tell you is classified. I'm not supposed to tell you this, and could probably lose my job, but at the moment, I could care less."

"Oh, no," he breathed, "you don't mean ..."

"Twelve months ago, we confirmed that he is active again. He's like a demon! He just won't stay dead. But, we can't figure out where he is, so the official line is he's still dormant. X and Zero have been a little nervous about it, though. It's like he's being patient, biding his time, waiting for something. He usually tries to attack just as soon as he's able." Audrey started to flip through the channels. All of them were showing their own "special report" on X. "God. It's on every channel."

Now Daniel turned green. "Turn ... turn it to 355. The stag beetles were on that channel." Audrey complied. Needless to say, the stag beetles were gone. "Oh, no. Audrey ..." They looked at each other and bolted for Angie's room.

  


Audrey, feeling about as comfortable as a doctor coming back into a waiting room after a failed surgery, slowly opened the door to her daughter's room – the only sound her husband's swift, anxious breathing behind her. She couldn't help but wonder how much help he was going to be. Their eyes swept over the room in an instant, taking in the scene.

The room itself was nicely sized, though not terribly large. As with most children's rooms in the twenty-second century, there were no windows. After some enterprising Maverick had realized that sneaking into sleeping children's rooms during the night and murdering them was a very effective method of unsettling the human population, putting them in rooms with reinforced outer walls was seen as a very practical thing to do.

Where a window might have been on the powder blue wall, an unusually thick viewer was hanging. It was an Artificial Window – a specially designed screen designed to receive signals from a small battery of cameras mounted in the outside wall of the house and create a realistic picture of the outside, complete with – on sunny days like this one – simulated sunlight streaming in.

For the most part, the rest of the room was as it should have been. The white desk against the wall was covered with readers and other school paraphernalia, the shelves were lined with books about knights in shining armor, princesses, princes, aliens, and talking animals. _At least_, Daniel thought grimly, _there's no poster of X up there. But then, what good is a poster, when you're used to seeing the real thing on a regular basis?_

That left the two of them with the last – and most disturbing – things in the room. Their daughter's television, much smaller than the one in the living room, was indeed tuned to channel 355. The blond newscaster, finally identified by a subtitle as Blane Wilson, was silently running her mouth. The set was muted. Audrey and her husband turned their attention to their daughter.

Angie Katrina Davis was sitting quite still on her mattress, her dark jeans and black shirt in stark contrast with the soft yellow of her bedspread. She was laying almost limp against a large pile of stuffed animals, her face directed at the television. She seemed completely unaware that there was anyone else in the room. After a few moments, Daniel moved forward and deactivated the small viewer, just as Audrey moved aside a large, stuffed Big Bird toy and sat next to her. It was only then that Angie appeared to notice their presence. She looked at her mother. For the first time, Audrey could see her wide, horror-filled eyes. "Mommy? What's – what's going on?"

"Angie ..." she began quietly, but was cut off.

"The lady on the news said X was something called deactivated. And then this big man with a weird hat said he was dead. That's not true, is it?"

Audrey and Daniel looked at each other, as if trying to decide who should answer. Amazing himself, Daniel found his lips moving. "Calm down, honey. Everything's going to be fine."

Angie sniffled a little, unconvinced. Audrey was busy marveling at the fact that she wasn't a bawling mess. "But what happened?"

"We don't know" wasn't a suitable answer, so Daniel decided to work his way into an explanation, hoping to give his wife time to come up with something safe to tell a six-year-old. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew, since neither of them had any idea what was really going on. _Damn whoever dared leak this. Damn them to hell._ He decided to start very simply. "Angie, you know what X does, right?" _That's did_, a little voice sounded in his head, but he ignored it.

Still sniffling slightly, the girl replied in a small, yet confident voice, "X is a Maverick Hunter. He stops bad reploids from hurting people. He's the best there is." She said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And a few hours ago, when the world was still spinning in the right direction and all pork-producing mammals were safely rooted to the ground, it would have been.

"Right," Daniel said slowly. This was proving to be far more difficult than he could have ever imagined. In fact, he didn't know what to say next. Audrey, however, seemed to have come up with something.

"Angie, honey, do you know why he's called the best?"

The girl thought for a moment, her face paling a little. It had occurred to her that something _really_ was wrong here, but her age and innocence kept her from accepting the truth. But then, she found the answer she was looking for. "Because he takes care of people. And the people he takes care of are always alright."

Audrey nodded – it was true enough. X had only failed a handful of missions, almost never really due to any fault of his own. A few intelligence failures here and there – she tried not grimace – were mostly to blame. Because of one Audrey was too young to have anything to do with, he and his team didn't quite get there in time to disarm a hidden nuclear bomb that took out half of London and made the rest uninhabitable. It wasn't his fault, technically, but she knew he had always blamed himself somewhat. It was evident enough in the guilty undertone of his voice when he discussed it.

But no, when Intelligence didn't screw up, when factors beyond his control didn't ruin any chance of success, X never failed. Not in twenty-six years of continuous active duty. It was what made him a legend – a hero. "That's right," she began again, "X always did," she paused momentarily, realizing she had just referred to him the the past tense in front of her daughter for the first time, but continued quickly, "whatever it took to protect those who needed him." She had Angie's complete attention. It was now or, quite possibly, given the state of her nerves, never. Her tone wavered slightly, but she was determined to finish the job. "Angie, earlier today, someone was attacked by ... bad people. X was there."

"He saved them, didn't he?"

She could say yes, couldn't she? Signas said that X had died that others would live. "Yes, yes, he did. He did his very best to protect them," she didn't have to be there to know that was true, whatever had happened, "and he saved them. But he was hurt very badly."

"They can fix him, can't they?" The touch of desperation, however slight, was unmistakable. Audrey knew the answer she wanted, and the fact that she couldn't give it to her made her stomach knot. She caught a glimpse of her silent husband's face; noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I'm sure they tried very, very hard, baby," she steeled herself, this was it, "but they couldn't fix him. He's ... he's gone, dear."

There was complete silence for all of five seconds. Then, like a dam breaking, Angie's petite face screwed up into a mask of sorrow, and she buried it in the folds of her mother's shirt. There was no sound in the room, save her sobbing.

  


Signas angrily slammed the door behind him as he entered one of Hunter Headquarters' many high-security conference rooms. It looked a lot like the one MacDonald and his band had met in halfway across the world, only it was much brighter, better lit, and the overall atmosphere of the room wasn't nearly as ominous.

Not to suggest that it was a happy place at the moment. What was left of the Hunter senior staff was gathered around the conference table, no one wearing an expression that could be described as anything but seriously grim. Zero's face was seemingly emotionless, a far cry from the sobbing, twisted mass it had been before he left his quarters. Only his eyes gave any hint as to what was going on inside his head, but no one dared look too deep into those fiery green orbs. If it was truly possible to incinerate something with a stare, there would have been nothing left of the room, or anyone in it. Lifesaver looked completely thunderstruck – more so than he had at the revelation of the circumstances of X's death. Douglas sat scowling, muttering something under his breath about there being "too many soulless nimrods" in the world.

That left Alia, and in Signas' opinion, her face was the most disturbing. There was no rage, no fury – only a dull, hard look that seemed to be a mixture of sadness and masked anger. Otherwise she looked close to normal – the only difference being that her hair looked just slightly frizzled on the ends. He marveled at the fact that she was still keeping such a tight lid on her emotions, but it was really starting to worry him. "Alright people. I'm sure you all know why I've called you here. We have a serious problem. The media's gotten hold of information, put quite simply, they just aren't supposed to have. I don't suspect anyone in this room, of course, but there's no point in denying it. We have a mole. While what he's already done is ... beyond reprehensible, we need to flush him out, _now_. We can't take the chance of any other, possibly classified information getting out. Let's not forget, Sigma is listening." There were nods of agreement all around. Even a short, quick one from Alia. "The question is," he continued, "how do we find him, or if it be the case, her? If at all possible, I'd like to avoid a full polygraph sweep. Casting a cloud of doubt and suspicion over the entire compound at a time when everyone's emotional state is ... um ... less than optimal is the last thing I want to do. I've got some analysts looking at the 'hidden camera footage' they have, trying to figure out where it was shot, but that isn't necessarily going to help us. Suggestions?"

"I've got plenty for what you can do with the guy when you find him," said Douglas hotly, "I can't believe someone would dare to _sell_ that kind of information. It's X we're talking about, for crying out loud. I can't imagine anyone who would want to make money of this nightmare. And believe you me: someone got paid a hell of a lot for this information. I guarantee it."

"What we're going to do with the coward that released the information isn't important now," Alia stated in a dark tone that effectively ended all other conversation in the room. "Though I urge you to seriously consider_ immediate _dishonorable discharge. Bypassing the PA office with information that is otherwise not meant to be publicized is in violation of about a dozen regulations." Zero thought it sounded more like a command than a suggestion, and couldn't help the hint of a smirk that formed on his face. "But," and her tone changed again, losing its edge, "as for rooting him out, I'd suggest a trap."

Signas nodded. It was exactly what he was thinking. "Indeed. Anyone as brazen as our mystery man would be all too eager to get another big scoop. So we give him some falsified information. Like, for instance, that I'm being fired for poor performance," he finished, smiling sardonically.

Lifesaver blinked. "What?" Douglas, Zero, and Alia looked just as bewildered.

"Well," Signas said, smile still in place, "is there anything likely to draw him out faster?" His face was serious again. "I want this dealt with as quick as possible. We've got far more important things to deal with."

"That we do," Lifesaver muttered. "But we can't just start a rumor going. It'll spread till a few dozen people know about it, our mole will run with it, and we'll be right back where we started."

"Yeah. How do we catch the guy?"

Alia's brow was furled in concentration. It was a good plan – until you tried to pull it off. "There's just too many people here. If we could narrow it down some ... but even then it's going to be difficult. Singling one out of five hundred isn't going to be easy."

"No, it's not," Signas agreed, "but you're all being too logical about it."

"What do you mean?" Lifesaver asked quickly. He was very fond of logic.

Signas' expression didn't change. "Who in this room actually thinks a field Hunter is responsible for this? Or, for that matter, anyone who's worked closely with X at all? I want to focus on our non-combat staff, current company excluded, of course." Alia was about to say something, but the Grand Commander continued quickly, "Nor am I inclined to look at spotters or the medical staff. All of them work too closely with our field people – it gets just as personal."

"So, we've gone from six-hundred to about one-seventy-five," Alia said quietly. "Now what?"

"Well, assuming our blind assumptions haven't completely thrown us off track, when we release the – ahem – news," Signas looked slightly uncomfortable, "we'll wait for it to be released to the public. At which point, we will debunk the rumor, and assuming our reporter friend doesn't give himself away when he realizes he's been tricked, we will arrange our list of 175 suspects in order of tenure, and begin polygraphs on them, starting with those who have been with us the least amount of time."

"I thought you didn't want to do the polygraphs," Zero said questioningly.

"I don't. But in the end, we'll have to."

"I have no problem with it," Alia offered flatly.

Lifesaver nodded his consent. Douglas grinned grimly. "Let's do it."

"Alright, then. I'll get the ball rolling as soon as we finish up here. But ... I'm afraid we have other things to discuss." Signas looked significantly at Lifesaver, who couldn't help but steal a glance at Alia. "How's it going, with ... the body?"

Lifesaver sighed, and much to Signas' and Zero's dismay, Alia didn't react at all. She sat still, waiting for the doctor to speak. Douglas thought he saw one of her hands tremble, but in the next instant, it was still again. Lifesaver had no choice but to answer the question. "I've cleaned and patched him up as best I can. He's in stasis tube seven. I've restricted access to the chamber, so he'll be undisturbed."

"Good. I have a feeling he left instructions for us about what to do. We'll know for certain when the computer unseals his files. Now," he cleared his throat, "on to the matter of telling everyone the ... full extent of recent events, I've been thinking that –" A knock on the conference room door interrupted him. He shrugged. "Hold on." He pressed a button on the table, and the door unlocked.

A young girl, no more than sixteen years old, entered the room. She was wearing a black skirt with a blue blouse with an ID card marked "Intern" pinned on. Signas recognized her as one of the many students doing their required community service hours at the headquarters. Personally, he wasn't very happy about the arrangement. He was, of course, happy that people wanted to volunteer their time to keep the organization running smoothly (and as cheaply) as possible, but the bottom line was that it meant more untrained civilians on a military base. From a security standpoint, it was a nightmare. Yet he couldn't do anything about it – it was another one of the immutable direct orders from the UN's Hunter Oversight Committee. It still annoyed him to no end that even he could be easily and effortlessly overrode by a bunch of suits a few thousand miles away that, nine times out of ten, did more mangling than managing.

"Commander Signas, sir," she began uncertainly, "I'm very sorry for interrupting. I know this is a private conference, but we just received this sealed message from the UNHOC. It's marked as Code One," she finished nervously, not liking the angry look starting to spread around the table. UNHOC messages were hardly ever anything good – Code Ones were the highest priority of the lot, and that didn't make anyone feel any better.

Signas took the disc from her outstretched hand managed a small smile. "Thank you, Ami. You may go now."

"Yes, sir," she replied, promptly shuffling out of the room.

Once she was gone, Zero spoke. "What do you think they want now?"

"Probably decided to cut my budget. Again," Lifesaver said darkly. It was no secret that he had a bitter dislike of UNHOC. They'd slashed his department's funds by thirty-five percent eight months ago and shunted the money to an un-described "special anti-Maverick project."

"At least you have a budget," Douglas growled. "You don't have to mess with that horrid Resource Allocation Department every time you want a new set of nuts."

"Uh, right. Let's see what this is, then," Signas muttered, inserting the disc into the table's terminal, which was situated in front of his chair. A few moments later, after authorizing himself, he began reading. As the others watched, his face darkened, and his mouth twisted into a repressed snarl. "I don't believe it ... Those _sons of bitches_. Damn them! What right do they have to ... _blast_ it!" He was squeezing his fists together so tightly that the distinct sound of metal being dented could be heard.

Everyone looked around uncertainly for a few moments. No one could think of a time when the Grand Commander had looked more furious. It was Lifesaver who decided to speak. "Signas? What is it? What did they do?"

Signas looked up from his shaking fists. He looked from face to face. Zero was confused, Douglas had developed a nice frown, Lifesaver was giving his Commander an appraising look, and Alia just looked wary. "Sorry about that. I lost control for a second. Brace yourselves. None of you are going to like this." He sighed and began reading. "By order of the United Nations Hunter Oversight Committee, the full circumstances of the deactivation of Mega Man X are not to be released to either the public or the general Maverick Hunter population. More specifically, the fact that he was executed for injuring a renegade human is to be considered Level Alpha classified until further notice. An official, approved-for-distribution explanation for his deactivation will be supplied to your PA office as soon as possible.

"As for the matter of X's remaining parts and components, they will be claimed by a research team for study on the twenty-fourth of December. They are to be kept in sterile storage until that time."

There was no sound once his lips closed. For the moment, no one was capable of forming words. A terrible, incomprehensible situation that everyone had up to the moment considered to be as bad as it could possibly get had suddenly gotten worse. Not only was UNHOC asserting control over their PA operations for some unknown reason; that in itself would have been troublesome enough. No – now they wanted to take what was left of X's body and rip it to shreds in the name of scientific advancement. Signas could come up with only one thought: _This is sick and wrong._ One look around the table told him everyone felt the same way. But – and they all knew it – there wasn't anything they could legally do to circumvent an UNHOC Directive. He was about to break the silence – it was really starting to unnerve him – but someone else beat him to it.

__"_No_!" No one had noticed Alia's hand clinch into a shaking fist as Signas forced himself through the message. Everyone was too dumbstruck to realize the creamy tint of her skin was slowly turning a deep shade of red and her eyes – which had seemed oddly hollow for the last several hours – were blazing with a fury Zero would have been hard pressed to match. "They can't ... _they can't just use him like that_! He died to satisfy their cowardly, racist laws and now they want to use his remains in some sort of experiment, like he was nothing more than an interesting machine?! He was so much more ... _bastards_!" Her coarse yelling was accented by the sound of her fist smashing into and through the conference table, tearing it in half.

  


Thousands of miles away, far underneath what remained of the Antarctic ice-cap, the Grand Commander of all Mavericks sat alone in his inner chambers, brooding. He had been hidden away here, in a pitiful excuse for an underground fortress, for almost thirteen months. Not that he minded.

No, he was quite happy to bide his time. The Sixth Maverick Uprising, as the media dubbed it, had been an utter disaster. He made the rare mistake of being overly influenced by his underlings, and trusted Gate to run things until he was ready to take over. Unfortunately (in his view), Gate failed long before Sigma was at full strength. He had overestimated the genius' talent – something he swore to never do again. So, when he managed to reassert himself six months ago, Sigma decided to employ a different plan.

Rebuilding the Maverick army wasn't really that difficult. Their numbers were already strong, and grew with each passing week. His followers were all too eager to resume the fight against the humans and their Hunter pawns. Of course, the fact that he'd covertly infected each and every one of them with the virus did nothing to hamper their eagerness or their loyalty. But Sigma had been doing this for almost three decades, and even he was beginning to tire of endless defeat. They needed an edge this time – something that would decimate the Hunters and anyone else who stood against them.

That was one of the reasons he'd ordered his army to lay hidden for so long. He had taken the time to covertly mass weaponry, armor, and equipment as well as tend to a what could only be described as a personal matter. After months of tedious work on the part of the best Maverick engineers, Lord Sigma, Grand Commander of the Mavericks, once again had a body that suited his title. By his calculations, he was stronger and more powerful than he'd ever been. But even that didn't completely nullify his number one obstacle: Hunter Commanders X and Zero.

The Blue Bomber and the Crimson Hunter, or, as some of the humans liked to call them, the Demon and the Avenging Angel. It didn't matter what scheme he concocted, or how many soldiers he gathered – X and Zero always pushed him back. It never mattered that Sigma's numbers were almost always far superior or that X and Zero were, in fact, only two people. Apart, they were each somehow equal to an entire army of troops. Together – together they were simply unstoppable for reasons logic alone couldn't reveal to him. It made no sense that one man – or even two – could stand up to a field of a few hundred armed soldiers and in the end be the only one left standing. There was only one way Sigma could describe it. They were gods of the battlefield. Somehow, he'd been pitted against two people fate had seen fit to endow with skill, determination, and will that simply defied all analysis. And no matter how much he damned himself for it, he couldn't help but respect them for their power. _But_, he thought wryly, _even immortals can die. The question is – how do I make sure they die this time?_

Breaking them apart was an ideal option. Even one of them was a deadly force, a symbol that spurred others to fight. But together – he was running out of plans for dealing with both of them at once, and none of those had ever worked anyway. _But how to do something that's up to now proved impossible?_

As if the Devil himself were listening, Boomer Kuwanger chose that moment to burst through the doors of Sigma's chamber. His face was twisted into a smile, and his eyes were twinkling. Sigma would never admit it, but the sight of the demonic stag beetle so undeniably ... happy made a shiver go down his spine. At the same time, he couldn't help the warm feeling that began to grow in his abdomen. This was something he was almost certainly going to like. Boomer snapped off a quick salute. "Lord Sigma, I have urgent news."

"So I gather from your demeanor, Boomer. Tell me ... what is this 'excellent news?' I rarely see you so ... cheery."

Kuwanger spoke in the tone reserved for a man bursting into a waiting room full of relatives announcing the birth of his first child. "Commander Sigma, Mega Man X is dead."

Sigma would later think it was fortunate that he was sitting down. For the briefest of shocked moments, all strength left his body. It would have been very bad for his image if he'd collapsed on the spot. All at once, his wits rushed back to him, and he smiled in a manner that made Kuwanger look sane. "Boomer ... this _is_ excellent news. Sit down. I need to ask you a few questions."

The beetle obliged. "I am happy to answer them, sir."

"First, and perhaps most important, who among us managed to accomplish this," he searched for a word, and in his mind only one fit, "miracle?"

Boomer Kuwanger shifted slightly in his seat, but his expression didn't change. "We're not sure, sir. Storm Eagle and I have been asking around ... no one's taking responsibility for it. And it certainly wasn't one of our planned operations. I would be able to confirm that. But we have proof. It's all over the news, and we even have a video of Signas announcing it to the Hunters. I've prepared a copy for you." He handed the Maverick Commander a disc, and sat back in his seat looking pleased with himself.

"I don't doubt your veracity. But, it's still very odd that no one will claim responsibility for this. Very odd indeed. Still, this is a time for celebration. One of our greatest impediments is dead."

"Yes, sir." He smiled menacingly. "If only that bastard Zero had died with him."

"Now, now, Boomer. You know very well I still have hope that Zero might one day be persuaded to ... see the true nature of the world around him and his rightful place in it." Boomer nodded slowly, all at once worried that he had overstepped his bounds. When Sigma spoke again, however, he knew that wasn't true. "In either case, it will most certainly be a lot easier to deal with Zero now that X is out of the way."

"So," Boomer began in an almost eager voice, "does this mean we will attack the Hunters soon, while they are weakened and reeling from their," and his tone turned mocking here, "horrific loss?"

Sigma's face had become calm and all but unreadable. "No. We won't attack them just yet. I want to know the exact circumstances of X's death before we do anything. I can't help but think there's something strange going on here. Until I know what that is, we will bide our time. As for attacking them while their guard is down ... don't worry, there's no need to put a rush on that. This is not something they will soon recover from. But rest assured – when the time comes, we shall use this to our advantage, and we will _flatten_ them."

"Of course, Commander. I agree completely," Boomer said, surprisingly sincerely. "What are your orders?"

"I will review the video you have given me. Like I said, a celebration is in order. Make the preparations, if you please."

Boomer nodded as he rose. He saluted crisply, still wearing his ghastly smile, and left the room.

_It would seem I have been given my edge_, Sigma thought darkly, _but by what hand?_


	4. Recalibration

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) Thanks to to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading this. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. All feedback is appreciated. :) Enjoy.

Zero turned a corner and found himself in Unit Seventeen's living cluster. Like every other squadron, the elite group lived together in a bunker that, more than anything else, was laid out like a college dormitory. There was a large common area, complete with a big-screen television, a pool table, a few couches, and a bookshelf. He noted sourly that most of the volumes were from X's private collection, but tried not to think about it.

Unlike almost every other living cluster, the building itself was two stories tall in order to house the over-sized elite unit. In contrast with Zero's Specials or any of the normal units, what was now Acting Commander Quinn's team was meant to function as a front line assault force – the first (and in some glorious instances, last) people to be mobilized in any major offensive operation. They were, in effect, a self-contained, completely self-sufficient miniature army. In place of a full second floor, there was only a railed off balcony upstairs. _And I'm one of the few people who remembers why_, Zero thought. After the Seventeenth's living facilities were destroyed in an attack during the third uprising, X had a great deal of influence on the design of the new structure. He specifically requested that there be only one common area in order to "enhance socialization between his soldiers."

Socialization. That ... wasn't really happening here. Ajax, Canyon, and Mark weren't anywhere to be found, which sort of surprised him. The fact that the Seventeenth's two humans weren't around wasn't really that much of a shock. They actually had relatives who were, more than likely,_ very_ eager to speak with them. To be calmed by them. _Too bad we can't give you anything to tell them. Bare with us ... we're going to get this straightened out._

__It made him feel a little better when he realized the room wasn't completely deserted. He spotted Quinn and his three unofficial sergeants massed around a coffee table. None of them seemed aware of his presence yet. _Good_, he thought, _the better to observe you, my pretties._ He blinked. _My pretties? Where did that come from? Damn, I need some sleep. I can't remember the last time I felt this exhausted._ But there was time for that later. He turned his attention back to the coffee table.

Quinn and Onyx, both looking somewhat calmer than they had earlier, sat across from each other, whispering quietly about something not even Zero's ears could make out. Aaron sat watching them with a passive intensity that only an expert sniper could muster. That left Beth, and as soon as Zero caught sight of her, he couldn't help but smile just slightly. She was curled up next to the animaloid with her head resting on one of his broad, furred shoulders. X had been right – they did make a cute couple. She had both arms wrapped around his midsection, and all in all, looked very comfortable. The grin erased itself, however, when he managed to catch a good look at her face. Her cheeks were stained; it was obvious she'd cried herself to sleep. _At two in the afternoon ... great. Still ... they say the sooner you release your grief ... but that's why I'm here, isn't it?_ He noticed that, even sleeping, Beth was gripping her boyfriend especially tight. _Don't worry, kid. You're not going to lose him. Not over this._ He made up his mind to let them both know that, UNHOC Directive or not. They would have enough on their minds without imagined threats.

Zero had been observing the room for about thirty seconds before Quinn's calmly roving eyes swung in his direction. They widened as they locked with Zero's green irises, and his first instinct was to stand up. It wasn't very often that the Crimson Hunter showed up in the Seventeenth's recreation room. Usually, he only appeared for one of two reasons: to harass X, or personally alert the unit of some imminent threat that didn't need to be put out over the internal communication system quite yet. Given the current circumstances, the Acting Commander couldn't avoid assuming the latter, and started to attempt to ease out from under his girlfriend. Zero caught his motion and raised a hand to stop him – which was fortunate, considering Beth only clamped tighter around his abdomen. The other two had noticed him now. Aaron was looking slightly nervous, probably thinking along the same lines as his cat-like friend, but Onyx was keeping a tight lid on his surprise, choosing instead to study the blond berserker intently. "Relax. There's no emergency. I thought I would stop by and check on you and," he threw a friendly, if not significant, look at Quinn, "see if any of you needed anything. That, and I was hoping to find Alia."

Quinn relaxed almost instantly, but Onyx made a noise that could have easily been mistaken for a bear growl. "I suggest you follow the dents in the floor, Zero."

Zero blinked and lowered his gaze. Sure enough, it was quite easy to spot the boot shaped depressions in the soft resin flooring. They led to Alia's quarters. He grimaced, but couldn't muster any actual surprise. "Damn."

"I'd say so," Onyx said quietly, before locking eyes with the older reploid, "Zero, what the _hell_ happened in that meeting? She burst through here with the most furious look I've ever seen on her face, and could barely form complete sentences when she spoke. Not that anyone was brave enough to attempt a drawn out conversation. I've never seen her look so ... disgusted."

"I'm a little curious myself," Quinn muttered. "She's been so ... stoic lately. I kept waiting for something to push her over the edge, but that wasn't the reaction I expected."

"That's because she's still holding it back," Zero said darkly. "We're just getting the occasional flashes of anger." His tone turned sarcastic. "The best is yet to come, I'm afraid."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience, sir," Aaron spoke for the first time, overcoming his shock at Zero's presence.

"You have no idea," Zero shot back darkly, earning a confused look from the sniper, who was too young to have been around for the Fourth Uprising. He had known this was coming when he spotted them, but what he was about to do still made him feel sick. "But, Onyx, I'm afraid you're not going to like my answer. None of you will."

"I assure you," Onyx returned, "we don't expect to. Bitter medicine is best administered quickly, Commander."

"The truth is, I can't give you one. Neither can Alia."

The reaction was instantaneous. All around him, eyes flashed dangerously. Aaron was too thunderstruck to say much of anything, though he was pulling off a credible impression of an angry mouse. Quinn, however, had no trouble finding his voice. It came to life in a swift, violent whisper. "Damn right we don't like it Zero! What the hell kind of answer is that?"

Onyx started in right after him, his own tone less than pleasant. "He's right, Zero. We've known from the beginning Signas and the senior staff are holding something back from us. Why aren't you letting us in here? _Us_, of all people. Not to sound like we're overly deserving of anything, but I'm willing to bet money that meeting of yours was about X, and – damn it, if you can't tell us what's going on, at least give us a reason why."

Zero flinched in his chair, as if someone had jammed him in the stomach. "I ... want to tell you all, you have a right to know what's going on here. Yes, we are holding information back about X; Alia, myself, Signas, Douglas, and Lifesaver. But we ... I can't tell you anything you don't already know."

"But –" Aaron began, the lightest touch of indignation in his voice.

"UNHOC's muffled us. Level Alpha classified." The furious undertone was unmistakable. All around the small table, faces paled. The silence made sense now. No one Hunter, not even Signas, could go against an UNHOC directive. As for the classification level, there were only a few people on the compound that had it. One of them was sitting at the table, one was currently suturing a small cut, another was locked in her quarters, the fourth was back in the armory, one was, unknown to everyone else, trying to find a way around his latest orders, and the last of their number was dead.

"Sorry for my outburst," Quinn managed after a few moments. "I didn't realize..."

"Me too," Onyx offered quietly, "I'm ready for this day to be over."

"No problem," Zero forced a smile, "Hell, I would have probably clobbered me. Just ... I may not be able to tell you what's going on, but you have to realize that I would if I could, in an instant. Depending on how you interpret the directive, I've already told you too much. I will tell you there's no reason we shouldn't be at Condition Green, so don't be afraid to relax. And, even though I hate to get you involved with our forced cover up operation," he grimaced again, "I don't want anything I just told you to go beyond the four people sitting, or laying, at this table."

Everyone nodded. Quinn, looking pained, spoke. In truth, he couldn't believe he had the gall to breathe the words that were about to come out of his mouth. "Zero ... if you'd prefer, we won't tell Beth. She wasn't awake for this, she didn't help us force it out of you."

Zero smiled gratefully, but shook his head. "One, you didn't force me to do anything. Two, thanks for the offer, but the four of you need to stand together right now. You are the senior members of your unit – people are going to be looking to all of you for leadership right now. No secrets, Commander. Not on my account."

Quinn's head jerked up from the spot on the floor he was intently studying. That was the first time anyone had referred to him by his new rank. "Zero ... I'm not officially the –"

"No, you aren't, but, mark my words, you will be soon. I barely have any idea what to expect when X's final orders are unsealed, but I do know who he's been spending the last year subtly preparing to replace him in the event of ... a situation like this. And there's only one more thing I'm going to say on the subject: if you ask me, he made a fine choice." Quinn nodded mutely, expression neutral. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Where's everybody else? I sort of figured it would be a little bit busier in here."

"Ajax and Canyon got a little ... restless when Signas made his announcement," Aaron volunteered, "I think they're in Training Room Four with Mark."

Zero nodded. "Understandable." _Something tells me there won't be much left of Training Room Four when they're done._ "How about ..." He trailed off, suddenly feeling very stupid for not being able to remember the names of the Seventeenth's two human Hunters.

Onyx seemed to catch on and did his best to save him from any embarrassment (though he took the opportunity to smirk in the blond's direction). "Stacy and Brent? They're here. On the phone with relatives, I believe. People have been calling them for a while to offer condolences, and not-to-discretely ensure that they're still alive." He smiled sardonically. "It must be a trying experience to be related to one of us."

"Indeed," Zero grinned a little, then straightened up. "Well, I think I've put it off long enough."

"Pardon?" Onyx glanced at him for a second, then at Alia's door. "You're going in there, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid so. As you can see," He gestured at the deformed flooring, "she didn't leave the meeting in the best of moods. For good reason," he added, giving them another subtle, if not useless hint. "I felt like I should check on her."

Onyx nodded in what Zero thought was a somewhat paternal fashion. "That's probably a good idea. You're likely to actually get in. I was going to try earlier, but I heard something thrown against the door before I knocked." He frowned deeply. "She's not taking this well at all."

"Understatement of the year," Quinn added darkly.

Aaron nodded, and asked the question before he realized what he was doing. "How did she find out?" Zero grimaced. "Oh ... wait ... Level Alpha classified, isn't it?" He spat the words with such venom that the Crimson Hunter _almost_ flinched.

"What do you mean?"

"X was off duty, she wasn't," Quinn said simply. "I would think he wasn't being monitored by Alia. Especially since no reinforcements were sent. If she – or anyone – had been watching, we'd have been called. So, that means she wasn't. Right?"

It was such a perfectly logical, if not simplistic, assumption. "You know what?" Zero spat suddenly, coming to a decision. "This is stupid. I may not be able to tell you what happened, but hell, you're going to need to understand what's going on with Alia if you want to have any hope of helping her deal with this. Not to mention, it might make the mood swings a little more understandable." Everyone blinked. As he began speaking again, Zero's voice faltered slightly. "Alia, Signas and I ... we had to watch. We weren't able to send any help. We just ... all we could do was watch."

Even if they hadn't been stunned into silence, no one would have been able to say anything to that. The shamed look in Zero's eyes was all but begging them to stop asking questions he couldn't answer. It was only made worse by the fact that what he said didn't completely make sense, and it was quite obvious he'd already told them more than he was supposed to.

Zero blinked, and the shame – and any other emotion that might have been on display – subsided. He wanted to tell them everything. He would of, but he knew he couldn't. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't risk antagonizing UNHOC, not yet. With X gone, he would have more responsibility than ever when Sigma made his move. He knew better than to think he was capable of fighting off an entire Uprising alone, but he would be expected to deal with the Maverick King now. The reploid overlord never put himself in a position to be killed in anything but a direct, very personal duel. There was nothing prideful in the knowledge that he was now the only person alive likely to win in such a scenario. No, he couldn't say anything now – but later, when his position in the Hunters wasn't so important, the truth would be known. It didn't matter if he ended up spending the rest of his life cleaning toilets. The entire world would eventually know exactly why Mega Man X was dead. "Just ... watch out for her, and tread lightly. It's likely to get worse before it gets better. I doubt any of us can do very much to get her to deal with her emotions, but when she finally does, whoever's around is likely to have some work cut out for them. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll leave the frying pan now." He stood, smiling weakly, and turned away. _To the fire._

As he walked away, Beth's eyes slowly opened. The first thing she focused on was a retreating red, white and yellow form. She didn't move, but raised her head up enough to smile sweetly at Quinn, in that manner possible only in those first few seconds after waking from a deep sleep. "What did I miss?"

  


Alia looked out her window at the falling snow. At the rate it was going, it was likely to have almost everything completely covered by tomorrow morning. Absentmindedly, she tightened her palm over the cut on her wrist. Part of her figured she deserved it for losing control and smashing the conference room's table. She shook her head and returned her gaze to the flaky puffs falling from the heavens. Before today, she'd loved to watch the snow. It seemed so beautiful; so magical. It didn't hurt that she often found herself beholding it in the company of a certain, six-foot tall reploid. The same boyish Hunter Commander that was absolutely appalled to learn that she didn't know what a snow angel was or how to make one, and insisted that she learn this "critical and enjoyable relaxation technique," on orders if necessary (though he'd added that last part with a smirk). She never did manage to figure out how someone who was so deadly could be so innocent at the same time.

But that was before. Now, it was all tainted. Try as she might, she couldn't look at the puffy white flakes without once again seeing X's limp body, face down in a slushy, stained pile of the ice crystals. She was reminded, with vivid detail that her cybernetic brain would never allow to be tarnished, of the sound the bullet made as it left Winters' rifle; of the way X's skin felt when she touched it mere minutes later – cold, deflated, and lifeless.

_No!_ She forced her eyes away from the window. _Stop it, Alia! I can't do this. He wasn't my lover. I shouldn't feel like this..._ She collapsed on her couch and put her head in her hands."What am I going to do?" she whispered softly. She didn't want to think about X like that, not anymore. There wasn't any point in pining after the dead. It was a concept easy enough for her logical side to grasp, but her emotions were not to be quelled so simply. But it hurt every time she relaxed her mind enough to think about it. It already hurt so much, and he had only been gone a few hours. What was it going to feel like when the whole unreal factor wore off? She didn't ever want to know, but deep down, she knew she didn't have a choice.

That's why it was so easy for her temper to take over. She wanted someone to pay for what had happened. She wanted justice. But it was impossible to punish someone for obeying the law, wasn't it? So, that left her with an anger and a sadness that she had hoped to never have to feel, and absolutely nothing to do with or about it. Yes, up until today, there had been a certain safety blanket involved in harboring feelings for the Blue Bomber. As nervous as she got every time he went off on another suicide mission that, by definition, shouldn't have been possible to pull off, there was always that comforting, subconscious assurance that he would make it through. It was Mega Man X, after all. It was all but impossible to use his name and the word "failure" in the same sentence. Nothing Sigma could muster would ever manage to stop him. It was a supreme law of the universe – however violently the Maverick King surged forward, X would always be there to push him back. And no matter how badly he was beaten in the process, the last son of Dr. Light would always come back to them – to her – in the end, even when he should, by all rights, have died on the battlefield. That was the hype, and she damned herself for buying it, for assuming she always had more time. But it was so easy to believe. The system worked, right up to the moment someone broke the rules. 

If that wasn't enough, the United Nations Hunter Oversight Committee, which seemed amazingly hellbent on keeping a lid on the truth, had just ordered her to turn over X's body so it could be dissected, and no matter how she tried to look at it, _violated_. She tried not to allow herself to feel the sorrow, but unfortunately for those around her, all that left was the fury. She glanced down at her wrist. It had long since stopped bleeding, despite the fact that it was a rather formidable gash. A hard, orange-tinted scab of sorts was being quickly erected by her auto-repair system. Within a few hours, it would dissolve, revealing newly formed synthetic skin. Looking at it, knowing how it had come to be there, she had to wonder how much longer she would be able to function on anger alone.

Alia looked up as someone knocked on her door. She had a pretty good idea who it was. She could only think of two people who would attempt to talk to her while she wasn't in that good of a mood who weren't in the Seventeenth, and one of them was sealed up in his office. Considering that most of her unit was likely now certifiably terrified of her, that left only one person. She rubbed her eyes and made an attempt to regain her composure. She threw a glance at her bedroom, suddenly reminded of the unwrapped birthday gift on her night table. She still wasn't sure what to do with it, but that was a conundrum for another time. "Come in, Zero."

The Crimson Hunter silently glided into the room and, without asking for permission, sat across from her. He tried to figure out how he wanted to start, but nothing really stupendous was coming to mind. He finally settled on asking, "How did you know it was me?"

Alia raised an eyebrow. "Well, there are only so many people that would attempt to interact with me at the moment, and you're the only one who wouldn't be either intimidated or currently busy."

Zero frowned slightly. "How ... logical of you." Alia shrugged, her facial expression unchanged. _She wants me to get to the point. At least she hasn't tried to throw me out yet. Okay ... so, now what? Think fast, Zero._ He faltered for a few seconds. He'd come here for the obvious reason – after Alia had stormed out of the briefing room, he had to come after her, if only to make sure she didn't do anything ... overly reckless. Not that he thought she would completely loose control, but if her behavior in the meeting was any indication, _someone_ needed to be keeping an eye on her. And if nothing else, he knew X would want someone to watch out for her. And that was all the justification he needed. Unfortunately, for the moment, that was all he could do. He had no idea how to go about fixing _any_ of this, least of all the part of it dealing with Alia and her feelings for his fallen brother-in-arms. The knowledge that X would more than likely know exactly what to do in this situation made him sick. But – and he would remind himself of this over and over again for a long time to come – he _wasn't_ X, and he never would be. Which meant, among other things, that he didn't have nearly as much insight on the human (or reploid) condition.

In that moment, Zero realized that he would never be able to deal with this particular situation in any manner resembling the way X would handle it. He didn't know how to subtly make someone admit to exactly what was bothering them before they knew what was going on, and then somehow put them on the road to dealing with it. _But, you always were more than just another fighter, weren't you?_ Zero knew he was always best with the direct approach. "Alia, are you feeling okay?"

Alia blinked, her face remained neutral. "Okay, Zero?" Her voice had an edge to it that made him wince.

_Strike one. Damn._ "I'm sorry ... bad choice of words. I just ... wanted to check on you, after you left the meeting ... I was a little worried."

The spotter's emotionless face seemed to soften a little, but still yielded nothing. "I apologize for my behavior earlier. I was out of line. I ... I guess I snapped. It won't happen again."

Zero resisted the urge to groan. "Alia, you don't have to apologize to me, or anyone else. We _all _wanted to smash something. The only difference is you managed to beat us to it. If it makes you feel any better, Signas had to go to the Infirmary to get the dents his fingers left in his palms fixed."

"Yay," she deadpanned. There was silence for a moment, then she spat out, "Can you believe this ... nightmare? First, they kill him, now they want to carve up his dead body. _And there's not a damned thing we can do about it._"

"I know," Zero couldn't keep the defeated tone from his voice. "But we've got to try."

"What?"

Zero suddenly had an idea. The whole point of this exercise was to get Alia to admit that she wasn't dealing with her emotions. She wanted nothing more than to bury them deep inside and pretend they didn't exist. What better way to convince her it was a flawed plan then to show her what it looked like in practice? "You're right. We've got to do our best to move on. X is ... X is gone, and he isn't coming back. That doesn't change the fact that the Mavericks are still out there. We've still got to be here to keep them from overrunning everything."

Alia blinked, and for just a fraction of a second, Zero thought he was about to get blasted. He would have liked nothing better. "What if I don't want to anymore, Zero?"

Zero was speechless. _That _so_ did not work._ "Wh-what do you mean?"

Alia sighed. "I'm not sure I want to keep protecting a race of people who don't think of me as anything more than an glorified toaster, there to serve their every need like the inferior being that I am." She looked away. "How did he do it?"

Okay ... this was venting, and he'd certainly been going for that, but he had the distinct impression he'd lost control of the conversation. Alia had just admitted she was about ready to quit – that was unexpected. _Might as well go with it._ She had, after all, asked him a question. For the moment, he would ignore the comment about the toaster and it's associated implications. "X? How did he do what?"

Alia scrunched up her face in a rare display of uncertainty. "How ... how did he defend people that hated him for _twenty-six_ years without burning out? He always seemed so happy when he wasn't on duty. And he may not have liked the way things are between us and the humans, but he was always willing ... more than willing ... to risk his life for them. He would have – did die for them without a second thought ... why? I don't really understand how he was always so sure of what he was doing."

Zero frowned. He'd wondered that before himself. Alia hadn't gotten the chance to know X long enough to make that question moot. She'd fallen in love with the man that liked to play with children and read old romance novels, and worked with the unstoppable, courageous Avenging Angel, and still hadn't completely figured out how to reconcile the two. Fortunately, he'd been X's best friend for twenty-six years, so he stood a chance of forming a decent answer. "Alia ... X hated the way we're treated. More than either of us, I imagine. He was ashamed of himself for bringing us all into a world that feared and ridiculed us. But that didn't matter to him."

Alia sounded genuinely confused. "How could that not matter?"

"They have no right to hate us for what we are, or what we think, right?" Alia nodded. "Then how can _we_ hate an entire race for for the _stupid_, unfounded prejudices of some of their members? We'd be as bad as the people that made it necessary for X to die today. He knew that. He wasn't willing to sit back and witness genocide, not when he felt he could – when he should – attempt to do something about it. He was going to help them, whether they wanted his aid or not, because it was the right thing to do." _He was always too damned noble to do anything _but_ the right thing._

Alia sat quietly for a few moments, digesting the information she'd been given. She knew enough about X to believe it. Somehow, she knew Zero wouldn't dare lie to her. It sounded just like him. But why hadn't she been able to realize it herself? Why did she need to be told? The answer was simple. She just hadn't known him as long. She was seven years old, and she had only known X for a fraction of that time. She would never have the opportunity to know him the way Zero did – he'd been taken from her. "You're right. I think I can understand why he did it, but I may never understand the how. Where do you get that much willpower?"

"I'm not sure. It was just ... part of him. I heard him tell one of his rookies something about it once – actually, I think it was Quinn, about four years ago. It was the kid's first mission, and the three of us had managed to get pinned down – twenty Mavericks and half a dozen ride armors were blasting at our position. One of X's busters was offline and my saber was somewhere under a big pile of rubble." He smiled slightly, as if remembering a particularly amusing memory.

Alia wanted to kick him. She didn't need any dramatic pauses right now. "And?"

"Quinn was freaking out a little. He's a good guy to have on your team, but he knows his limits. At the time, I think he thought he was out of his league. I heard him mutter, 'we're going to die,' and he was starting to look a little frazzled. Well, panic before a battle is never good, but before I could say anything, X just turned to him, no trace of doubt or worry on his face, and asked, 'Quinn, are you dead yet?' He had the kid's attention, and kept going. 'No? Then you're not beaten. As long as you're alive, there's always a way to win, no matter what the odds. The only thing that varies is difficulty.' And you could see it in his eyes – he believed it. I think that was how he did everything. He never accepted the no-win scenario. He just wouldn't allow himself to even consider it. Period."

Alia smiled thinly. "I always thought he liked James Kirk too much." Zero missed the reference, but shrugged it off, making a note to look this "Kirk" up later. "Isn't this the no-win situation, though?"

Zero let a small, sad grin play across his own face. "Only for us. He may not have saved every one of those people in the park, but there's no arguing that he didn't carry the day, even if he had to die as a result. That's how he would have thought of it, I think."

Alia looked thoughtful for a minute, then began to speak in a tired whisper. "He probably would have ... but ... I can't use his justification for myself. I can't simply _tolerate _what they've done. I don't want this life anymore."

Zero found himself conflicted. Alia was her own woman – she had the right to do whatever she thought was best. But, and he didn't mind admitting it to himself, he didn't want to face this alone. And he didn't love Alia, not like he suspected X did, but he wasn't at all pleased with the idea of her going somewhere where he couldn't keep an eye on her, especially considering her current state. Fortunately, what she said next allayed his fears, for a little while at least.

She smiled ruefully, seeming to pick up on his concerns. "Don't worry. I said I didn't want this to be my life, but I'm not ready to leave yet. I promised X I'd stay around long enough to keep things from getting out of hand when the crap hits the fan," her face darkened as she went on, "and it will be hitting, UN order or not. But as soon as it's over, I'm done here. There's nothing to make me want to stay any more, and plenty to make me want to leave. But," she tried another smile, not really sure if she pulled it off or not, "for the moment, I'm still with you."

Zero sighed. _Scratch one crisis._ "Good."

"Thanks for checking in on me. You cut off what was bound to be a rather long sulking session."

Zero grinned sincerely for the first time in what seemed like a very, very long while. "No problem." He rose and went for the door, but paused before exiting. He turned around and locked eyes with his young friend. "And just so you know ... I don't plan on staying here that much longer myself. As soon as we've put Sigma down, I'm done."

Now it was Alia who was caught off guard. "Wha-what?"

She immediately noticed the anger flashing in his eyes. Apparently, he'd found a way to harness his fury again. At least she could tell it wasn't directed at her. "When I started fighting Sigma, it wasn't because I believed in the right of the human race to inhabit the Earth. I have human friends, sure, but as a race? My human friends are wonderful people. The human race is scum. Don't get me wrong, I would never just sit back at watch innocent people be killed, but that wasn't what motivated me in the beginning, not really. I fought because I wanted my friends and I to live a free life; not one under Sigma's iron fist. I may not be the smartest of men, but even then I knew what a despot was. Despots cannot be allowed to rule anything, under any circumstances. I'd like to think I've grown up a little over the years; gotten a little more mature, but any respect I may have gained for the human race just got shot to hell. This time, I'm making sure Sigma stays dead, then I'm done."

Alia stared blankly at him, absorbing the information she'd just been handed. She'd always known his motives weren't quite as elevated as X's, he'd admitted it on several occasions, but this was the first time he'd spelled it out for her. Strangely, she had no problem with anything he'd said. She didn't think she could bring herself to only concentrate on humanity's few redeeming characteristics anymore. _No. That's not true. I know I can't._ She wasn't X, and she couldn't pretend to think like him. Then something else truck her. "Zero ... how are you going to make sure Sigma stays gone? We've tried before. It never works."

The Crimson Hunter stared at something outside Alia's window. "I'll think of something." She realized instantly that she didn't like the fluctuation in his tone. Before she could say anything, he continued. "I've ... got to check on my unit. I'll see you in a few hours." He smiled at her and left the room.

  


_Maverick Hunter Headquarters Library Computer Automated Task System_

_Logging Enabled..._

_Task ID: X-1953-32-234-Omega_

_Task Description: On-Death Orders and Tasks: Commander Mega Man X_

_Executing..._

_Authorize Commander Zero and Lieutenant Commander Alia to enter quarters of the deceased ... Done._

_Authorize Commander Zero and Lieutenant Commander Alia to access personal database of the deceased ... Done._

_Notify the above parties of authorization ... messages sent to private terminals ... Done._

_Dispatch copy of file "Lt. Commander Quinn Promotion Recommendation" to Commander Signas ... Done._

_Dispatch copy of videofile "Omega1" authorized for viewing by collected members of Hunter Unit 17 ... Done._

_Rename encrypted file "On-Death Letter to Signas" to "Letter from X" and dispatch to Commander Signas and authorize Signas to view file ... Done._

_Rename encrypted file "On-Death Letter to Zero" to "Letter from X" and dispatch to Commander Zero and authorize Commander Zero to view file ... Done._

_Rename encrypted file "On-Death Letter to Alia" to "Letter from X" and dispatch to Lieutenant Commander Alia and authorize Lieutenant Commander Alia to view file ... Done._

_Decrypt and dispatch file "Final Instructions" to Commander Signas ... Done._

_Load custom program "Armor Control Circuit Wipe" ... working._

_Program loaded. Executing program ..._

_Please wait..._

_All control and interface circuitry programming in all armors successfully erased. All armors have been neutralized..._

_Program complete._

_Task X-1953-32-234-Omega complete._

_Log saved to database._

_Loading next task ..._

  


Signas sat down at his desk. It had been just over four hours since X's death. If there hadn't been any glitches in the system, the LCATS would have executed X's "On-Death Orders and Tasks" script by now. He briefly wondered what went through is old friend's mind when he had programmed that particular sequence of events. Signas himself had found the task beyond morbid when he'd been forced to do it. Still, it was a necessary thing, and the system was undeniably quite efficient. When he activated his terminal, he would likely have a couple of new files waiting for him, one of which was sure to be X's final orders. The other was going to be a recommendation for him on who should be given command of the Seventeenth. He didn't really expect anything else. All that remained was to sit down and look at his incoming messages. Of course, he was an always would be a pragmatist, so he knew the best course of action was to simply get it over with.

So, why was he staring at an inactive terminal as though it were a primed nuclear weapon? _Well, that's a simple question, isn't it? This is it. Once his orders are carried out, he's gone. The world will start spinning again, and the game will start anew. SNAFU. Whoever came up with that acronym must have had situations like this one in mind. Well ... there's no time to meet the future but the present._ He shrugged his broad shoulders and stabbed his keyboard.

  


"So, that'll be eighteen-fifty, sir."

"Right." Lieutenant Ben Dixon, United States Army Research, fished around in his uniform slacks for his wallet. "Here you go. Keep the change."

"Thanks, sir. You want me to put this anywhere for you?"

"No. That's alright. I'll take it."

"Sure. Here you go." The younger man handed over the biggest pizza available within a twenty-five mile radius, smiled, and excused himself from Dixon's one bedroom apartment. The engineer shut the door quickly and collapsed, pizza and all, on a couch in what passed for his living room. He sat the cardboard box containing his dinner on the cushion next to him and flipped it open, grinning slightly as the aroma of fresh mushroom and pepperoni pizza filled the air. Leaning forward and grabbing a glass off the knee-high coffee table in front of him, he took a swig of root beer and made an attempt to relax. _God, what a horrible day._ He still hadn't completely recovered from the revelations of the XCBM Task Force meeting. He didn't understand how everything could go do far downhill in so few hours.

He just couldn't believe it – Mega Man X executed for neutralizing that damned idiot jock Henderson and the XCBM prototype. It was horrific on so many levels. Not the least of which was the simple fact that he had _anything _ to do with it. His mother had left him a message a few hours ago, but he'd yet to attempt to call her back. She was the last person he wanted to talk to, knowing what he was responsible for. She didn't want him to see his shame-filled eyes. None of this would have been possible without his "expertise and talent," and he knew it. Dixon wasn't a braggart or an egomaniac by any means, but he had no problem with the assertion that he was the one of the foremost human computer experts on the planet. It was only logical that his Army Research superiors would assign him to work on the XCBM project.

All the weapon systems, navigation computers, redundant power generators, everything – none of it would have worked together if it weren't for his circuit designs and interface and control programming. Sure, there were other programmers and engineers attached to the project, but they were nothing more than his assistants – he provided all direction and approved everything himself, right down to the HUD's color-scheme. The Army had built Frankenstein's monster – he'd given it its brain.

_'This is a historic project, Lieutenant. It'll change the world.' Ugh. They weren't kidding. But this was never supposed to happen. Ha. I still shouldn't be so surprised. Only proves how naïve I've turned out to be. _He began chewing through a second slice of pizza. _I should have considered the possibility of something like this before I signed on to this project. But the chance of this particular scenario ... I never even thought of it, and the possible benefits were too great. How could I have been so _stupid_? _He grinned sardonically and glanced at a picture on the wall. He stood to the left side of it, smiling brightly. He was a a good number of years younger, though part of him was pleased to note that he hadn't really aged at all. In the center stood a relatively tall, confident reploid known to the world as Gate. The brilliant madman-to-be had one arm slung around the human, and another over the shoulder of a smiling, blond, blue-eyed female reploid. _His two best students_, Dixon recalled, the grin on his face widening slightly. _I did it for her. So she could be happy, and safe, like she's always deserved. Like they've all deserved. _The grin disappeared, and he paled. _But I've ruined any chance of that, haven't I? Oh, God ..._

"Damn it!" His suddenly shaking hand had dropped a slice of pizza into his lap. He yanked it up and dabbed at the mess with a towel. After a few moments, he declared his uniform trousers a lost cause and went back to his food, and his thoughts. "Oh, what have I done?" _I've gotten at least one man killed. How many innocent bystanders died with him? How many lives have I ruined?_ He looked at the report on his coffee table and realized he really did need to read it eventually.

Then another thought struck him, and in the span of a second, self-pity turned to righteous anger. It didn't take a computer genius to know that something in that meeting was off. It was no secret that General MacDonald didn't respect him at all. Up to now, the engineer really didn't have a problem with that. The man was an insufferable, rude, pathetic excuse for a human being. Until today, Dixon hadn't had a problem overlooking that. He didn't mind putting up with the man's crude pettiness, so long as he completed his task and saw the XCBM used to benefit those brave men and women who put their lives on the line to keep Sigma from bringing civilization to its knees.

That was then. It was fairly easy now for Dixon to tell that he'd been used. _Hindsight's not twenty-twenty. Hindsight's a bitch._ But there was no denying it anymore. He was being manipulated. MacDonald, in his arrogance, had all but confirmed it. The General obviously thought of him as a lesser form of human, and treated him accordingly. He wouldn't have had anything but a vague weariness, but the gleam in MacDonald's eyes when he threw him out of the meeting – which he seemingly didn't try to hide on account of his assumption that the computer genius was some kind of social dunce – reminded Dixon of the look on his father's face before dismissing him from a room so that the old man and his mother could talk about "adult things." After years and years of seeing that expression, it was quite easy to identify in others. He was honestly surprised that this was the first time he'd caught it from the XCBM Project Commander. His first thought was that MacDonald had reached a new level of contempt for him, and didn't care what he saw. But, after thinking about it, he knew that wasn't it. No, MacDonald had slipped up, pure and simple. _Something has him rattled. And whatever it is, I'm not supposed to know about it. That's why they threw me out. But the meeting went on for at least fifteen minutes. What are they hiding from me? Could there be some aspect of this project I'm not aware of?_ He shuddered at the thought. That would certainly classify as being used. Then, there were the hints that he was about to be dropped from the project team. But that made no sense, when he stopped and thought about it. Supposedly, the team was a development group. Its mission was to prepare the XCBM for roll out, and they would be done when the higher ups put the final stamp of approval on the prototype design. But if that had already happened, why was he the only one getting dismissed? The whole lot – MacDonald, Blake, Montalbaan – they should have all been talking about packing their bags too. _And where the hell was Winters?_ _No, there are just too many pieces of the puzzle that don't fit together._ His face darkened as an altogether totally unpleasant thought occurred to him. _Then again, the pieces may fit together perfectly. Perhaps I've been given the wrong picture._

He couldn't deny the possibility that there was more to the XCBM Project than he was being led to believe. It was his duty as a scientist, and a good human being, to make sure his research and designs weren't used to bring about anything truly malevolent. He found himself looking at the picture on the wall again. If that was his obligation, some would say he already failed. His face hardened. He had already indirectly facilitated the deaths of far too many innocents. It was time to do a little digging around the Defense Department's computers and figure out just what was going on, rank and protocol be damned. He would willingly be no one's pawn.

Dixon grabbed his pizza and his root beer, tucked Winters' report under his arm, and headed for his office. He wanted answers. That meant he had a little work to do. It didn't matter how long it was going to take. He would know the truth, no matter what it took. And in the end, if it was warranted, so would _she_.

  


In spite of everything, Acting Commander Quinn of the Seventeenth Unit found himself gliding swiftly towards Signas' office, when by his own admission he didn't want to be there. He'd spent the last few hours much as Zero had, trying to get his unit regrouped and ready for any emergency that might pop up and attempting to ascertain the emotional states of his comrades. All in all, he was relatively pleased with the condition of his friends, given the circumstances. Sure, there was everything from red-hot fury to his own doused anger, to deep, unutterable sorrow, but with the exception of one, everyone actually seemed to be dealing with their emotions. Even Beth's sudden reluctance to let him leave her sight for any extended period of time, though it pained him to see her so anxious, could be considered a form of grieving. Alia was another matter. Her feelings, or lack thereof, were something he didn't really know how to deal with. One minute she would be pulling a rather impressive imitation of an emotionless rock, and the next she would be giving off enough anger to make people discretely remove themselves from her path in fear. Zero seemed to be making an attempt to work with her, though, and that was good enough for the animaloid. _After all, he actually knows what in the hell is going on around here. If anyone's going to be able to talk to her about this, it'll be him. _For just an instant, he wondered if he had been summoned so he could be let in on the true nature of recent events, but he ruled that out rather quickly. _Zero sounded too ashamed earlier. He knew there was no way I was finding out about anything anytime soon. That leaves the other, less desirable situation – official promotion. It's been over four hours since X's death. If he left any recommendation, Signas has no doubt seen it by now. And the big guy will want to keep all the cogs and sprockets running smoothly. _The tiger-like reploid drew a hand to his uniform's metallic crest, running a finger over the three pips indicating his rank. Two solid silver, the third a golden ring, together indicative of a Lieutenant Commander. He had often wondered what it would be like to have that third piece of silver, to lead his own unit into combat, but he had never actively pursued the matter, and he had certainly never thought that he would be given the Seventeenth after X's death. He had always assumed his fate would be like that of every other second-in-command of the over-sized elite squad since it had been given to the Blue Bomber. He would either die in combat (though he had enough self-confidence and reason to live that he almost never considered this possibility), or would eventually be offered leadership of another unit after the senior staff decided he had enough experience. But he didn't want it, not like this.

_But that's not the point_, he reminded himself, _if I've got it, that's it. If X recommended me to replace him, he did it because he trusted me ... because he believed in me. I may not want to assume command under these circumstances, but if I have to, I will._ He grinned sardonically. _Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll just want to ask me for a status report ... but probably not._

Much sooner than he would have liked, Quinn found himself standing in front of the door to the Grand Commander's office. He squared his shoulders and knocked. Almost at once, the two metal plates slid away from each other, and he entered. Signas was standing in front of his desk, waiting for him with a tired smile. He gestured to a chair. "Please sit down, Lieutenant Commander. Would you like something?"

Quinn took the indicated seat, slightly relieved that Signas had referred to him by his current, official rank. "No sir, I'm fine. Unless you've come up with a way for us to get drunk."

Signas smirked as he took his seat behind the desk. "I have one of our research teams working on it." Quinn chuckled softly, but quickly regained his composure when his superior's face grew serious again. "There are a few things I need to discuss with you about the current situation. First thing's first, though." His face softened enough to let the white tiger know he really was concerned. "How are you and your friends doing?"

Quinn shrugged. "For the most part, as well as can be expected, I guess. Ajax and Canyon are," he mock shuddered, "deeply involved in a low-key game of Monopoly with a couple of guys from Zero's unit that's been going on for two hours, but they seem to have worked off most their initial anger. As long as they're thinking straight, I have no complaints. Onyx is ... well ... being Onyx. He's not saying much, but he seems to be doing okay." He actually smiled as he continued. "As for Stacy and Brent, I have no idea how either of them are doing. They haven't been able to get off the phones in almost four hours. There are times I envy humans for having that kind of family structure, but I'd prefer the two of them get through today with their hearing intact. Aaron seems ... calm enough, and last time I saw him, Mark was engrossed in a book. Beth isn't too thrilled about letting me out of her sight right now, but I think that's got more to do with the fact that no one outside the senior staff knows what happened to X. She's very level headed, you know, but the whole idea of some _thing _lurking out there that could take X down, that we aren't allowed to know about, has her a little on edge. Then there's Alia. That's a mess, but that's pretty much all I can say on the subject. Zero stopped by a few hours ago. He seems to be trying to talk to her, but I can't tell if he did any good. The four of us – Beth, Onyx, Aaron, and myself – we've worked out a schedule that keeps at least one of us available in our common room at all reasonable hours, just in case she wants to talk. I'm not sure how long we can keep that up, given the hectic nature of our jobs, but we all felt it was worth it to make the effort. She's one of us, and she's hurting. We're going to do whatever we can for her, but admittedly, at the moment, that isn't much."

Signas listened quietly as Quinn spoke, nodding slightly when he heard something he liked and trying not to frown when he didn't. As the animaloid spoke, it became increasingly clear to the Grand Commander why X wanted him to replace him. His squad-mates were his friends – one obviously more than that – that much was clear in the tone of voice and look in his eyes when he described them. At the same time, he remained detached, and was doing a marvelous job of not letting his emotions cloud his actions or color his speech. That was a useful combination in any leader. He would never say anything, but he was especially impressed with the almost familial way the Lieutenant Commander referred to them. Not every unit was so tightly knit, even if most of them were smaller. He sighed. It was time to speak again. "It sounds like you have things well under control. I realize the UNHOC order has put a lot of strain on everyone here, the ten of you especially. I applaud your efforts to help Alia. I'm sure she'll eventually come to one of you, but I'm not sure how soon. But you didn't completely answer my question. How are _you _doing, Quinn?"

It took all his self control not to groan in front of his commanding officer. He had been expecting this, after all, but still – expectation and reality were could be wonderfully incongruent on occasion, and he was an optimist, after all. He sat back in his chair. "I'm ... I'm fine, Commander." Signas raised an eyebrow, seemingly transmitting the universal "give it up" signal. "Just a little overwhelmed. I never expected to be the Acting Commander of the Seventeenth. Certainly not under these circumstances. I'm sure I can handle any added responsibility until somebody gets an official promotion."

Signas tilted his head, face serene. "And you don't think that somebody should be you?"

Quinn shifted in his seat. "Well, sir ... permission to speak freely?"

"That phrase translates into 'permission to be honest,' Lieutenant Commander. Permission always granted."

Quinn felt himself relax a little. Signas was never as imposing as he expected him to be. "I ... I just feel I'm not the right person to replace him, sir."

Signas grinned. _So that's it._ "Quinn, no one expects you to _replace_ X. I'm not sure anyone can do that. You certainly can't, because you're not the same person. But you have all the qualities X respected in a Commander. You care about what you do, about the people you serve with, you're good at controlling your temper under pressure, and you're here for all the right reasons. Not only that, but you've managed to do something he never could."

"I beg your pardon?" Quinn was following along pretty well, right up until that last sentence.

"You have a life outside all this." He waved his arm as if to indicate all of Maverick Hunter Headquarters. "Man, you're engaged to be married! Not that you're going to have an easy time finding anyone to perform the ceremony, but that's beside the point. You managed to do what he never got the chance to do – you're a Hunter, and you do your job well, but you've managed to make your life about more than that. He respected that more than you can imagine."

Quinn found his head swimming a little at his superior's latest set of revelations. He never realized X thought of him that way, there was no indication of it whatsoever. "Sir, how can you –" he began, but was cut off.

"How can I know what I say is true?" He held up a sheet of paper marked "Promotion Recommendation" at the top. "Because everything I've just told you, he made sure I knew. There's only one question left for you to answer, Quinn. You've already told me you feel you can command the Seventeenth. X thought you were the best person for the job. I find myself agreeing with him. If you want it, it's yours." He paused for a few seconds. "Well? You can take some time to think about it, but I'll be honest. The sooner I have your answer, the better."

Quinn steepled his fingers, tapping his nails against each other. _So, this is it. Decision time._ Almost instantly, he realized there was no decision to be made. X was willing to trust him with this responsibility; thought he would be the best for the job. He didn't know if it made him an egotistical person or not, but deep inside, he couldn't help but feel slightly proud that the deceased Commander had thought of him with that much respect. More than anything else, X always tried to do what was best for his unit – despite the fact that they went on more suicide missions than the rest of the Hunter population combined, X always did whatever he could to make sure they came out on the other side of the gauntlet in one piece. He realized at once that he'd been chosen because the legendary Commander thought he was the best person to watch over them now that he was gone. _Decision made._

"I accept, sir."

Signas smiled again, allowing himself a much wider pleased expression than Quinn had yet seen from him that day. "I thought you would. I have a couple of things for you." He reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a small leather case, passing it to Quinn. The animaloid opened it slowly, revealing a Maverick Hunter's crest, dotted with three solid, silver pips. He couldn't help the tears that began to form, and didn't try to. "Good luck, Commander."

"Thank ... thank you, sir."

"I have something else for you. The recommendation letter X left for me had a sealed attachment on it, to be given to you if you accepted the promotion. I believe he left you a note. I'll transfer it to your terminal as soon as I input your promotion into the computer's database." Quinn nodded mutely. "Your intelligence clearance will be updated accordingly and you'll be getting a list of the briefings you need to be keeping up on now. I've also got a couple of things you need to take care of as soon as possible."

The newest Hunter Commander tried not to look surprised. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"It's your responsibility, of course, to choose your second-in-command. At the moment, you technically already have one – Lieutenant Commander Alia is attached to your unit, and currently holds the second highest rank in said unit. However, she isn't cleared for field duty, and as you know, regulations require your second be a field officer that can take over for you in the event you're incapacitated, so it can't be your spotter. Whomever you choose will be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Anyone in mind?"

Quinn had a couple of ideas. "I think so."

"Good. One other thing." Now Signas was looking uncomfortable, and Quinn had a good idea why. "As I'm sure you're aware, at the moment, Unit Seventeen is not at full strength. At your earliest possible convenience, I need to to look through the incoming and transfer roster and choose a tenth Hunter. You'll have access to roster database from your terminal."

Quinn nodded again. _That's gonna be fun._ "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Yes." He tapped his own Hunter's crest. It looked just like any Commander's, except that its body was gold instead of silver. "You need to change. Good luck, Commander. If you need anything, let me know. Dismissed."

  


When Quinn, wearing his new Unit Commander's crest, turned into Unit Seventeen's living cluster, he was moderately surprised by the sight that greeted him. With the notable but not unexpected exception of Alia, everyone was spread around the common area and seemed, against all odds, to actually be having a little social gathering. Even Brent and Stacy had managed to get away from the phones, which, he supposed, was quite an impressive feat. The two of them, understandably not interested in doing much talking, were playing a game of chess in the corner. Onyx was watching them closely. The ebony-haired, green-eyed human twins were actually smiling playfully at each other – that was nice to see. _Of course, if I had just escaped a horde of unrelenting, concerned relatives, I would most likely be smiling too._ Beth and Aaron were engrossed in a game of pool (_She's winning_, he thought, grinning), and Ajax and Canyon, along with Mark, had seemingly started another game of Monopoly.

Ajax, a moderately tall, ebony-skinned, silver haired humanoid with a thick build, noticed Quinn first. More accurately, he noticed what was different about him, namely the rank pips on his arm. He nudged his companions and nodded his head in Quinn's direction, and it began. Canyon, an albino reploid that bore a striking resemblance to Armored Armadillo, seemed to somehow grow paler. Mark stopped what he was doing and simply watched the Commander. Almost instantly, the room grew silent as the others caught on to the change. Normally, most wouldn't have given him such a close inspection, but the obviously nervous look in his eyes begged a second look. Everyone, even Beth, seemed to be in a state of momentary shock, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing, and didn't know what to do. _And why shouldn't they look like that? How many of us ever thought I'd be wearing a Commander's crest while I was still attached to this unit?_ He noted with some relief that no one seemed to be looking at him with contempt or doubt, but he would have liked it very much if one of them _moved_. Later, thinking back on the scene, he realized he had no idea how much longer they would have all stood there staring at each other if it hadn't been for what happened next.

Alia exited her quarters slowly, with all the grace of a bear who had just woken up after a long winter's nap, and leaned against the wall. All eyes in the room turned to the now reclusive spotter, and she instantly began to take in the scene, trying to figure out why it had suddenly gotten so quiet. Her eyes, those unrelenting blue spheres that missed nothing, washed over Quinn, stopping for the briefest of instants on his shoulder before locking with his own irises. All at once, she straightened up, and turned to face him head on. She spoke. "Welcome back, Commander. I trust your meeting with Commander Signas went well. Unit Seventeen ... _at attention_." Her right hand flew to her forehead in a crisp salute. Within moments, everyone in the room was following her example. She smiled thinly at him, and for the first time since X's death, Quinn noticed the faint trace of approval in her tired eyes. He felt a weight he didn't know he was bearing lift from his shoulders, and let a small smile grace his own face as she turned and went back into her quarters. The tension in the room broke, and everyone began talking again, offering him congratulations and varied apologies for "zoning out." He felt Beth's arm wrap around his waist, and relaxed a little. He looked into her face, which was currently lighted by a bright, reassuring grin. Maybe he could do this after all.

  


"Quinn, are you planning on coming to bed anytime soon?" Beth appeared in the doorway of the Commander's office with a concerned look on her face. The air conditioning system ruffled the bottom of her powder blue nightgown just slightly, and gave her the appearance of floating on air. The animaloid had told her he needed to take care of a couple things before he went to sleep. That was thirty minutes ago. He was still sitting at his desk, in uniform, staring at his terminal with his head supported in his hand. He didn't seem aware of her presence, and she furrowed her brow. _I'll just have to do something about that._

Quinn still seemed unaware that there was anyone else in the room – at least until Beth sat softly on the side of his chair and started ruffling his hair. He jumped in his seat and turned to look at her. "Sorry. I guess I got a little zoned out there."

She smirked. "A little? Did you even hear me a second ago?"

"Uh ... okay. More than a little."

Beth's face darkened a little in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, really. I just sat down to check my e-mail, and I had a little more than I expected." He motioned at the screen. "Look at this mess."

Beth followed his gaze, and her eyes widened slightly. There were at least three hundred messages that were less than twenty-four hours, most labeled with some form of high security clearance. "What ... what is all that?"

"The first peril of command," he quipped dryly. "Paperwork, status reports, intelligence briefings that I need to catch up on ... I don't know how he managed to ever get anything done. I've filled out four forms in the last thirty minutes and have had ten more appear in my inbox. It's a wonder we ever saw him at all."

"You'll do fine. X wasn't alone in his belief in your abilities. You aren't going to be expected to do everything at once. You haven't even been in charge for twelve hours yet. What are those?" She indicated a list of names in one of the corners.

He frowned slightly. "Dossiers. Candidates for admission to the Seventeenth. I haven't managed to bring myself to think aboutthat yet."

Beth blinked. "What? Candidates for admission?" Her shoulders sagged a little. "I guess we do need to be at full strength, don't we?"

"Yeah. The world keeps turning, I guess."

"I'm sorry about earlier, Quinn."

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. _What is she talking about?_ He intended to ask her, but all he managed was a confused, "Huh?"

Beth shifted uncomfortably on her perch, and finally said, "About earlier ... when ... when you came back from meeting with Signas. I shouldn't have just stood there and gawked at you like that. You know I think you deserve this, and I know you'll do the job well ... it was just," her face scrunched up a little, "seeing you, wearing that, it just made everything more ... final."

All at once, he understood, and he couldn't help the reassuring smile that crossed his face. "Beth, honey, you don't have to apologize to me for anything, least of all that. Do you really think I expected to walk in and have everybody just give me a thumbs up and go about their business? This isn't a normal event. I was just so thrilled that no one openly glared at me." He grinned again, hoping to erase any further doubts from her mind.

"None of us would ever do that. We all trust you. You know how much _I_ trust you, and always will. I'll admit though, seeing you walk through that door wearing this," she tapped his shoulder, "it kind of scared me a little."

Okay, he had no explanation for _that_. "Scared you? Why?"

Beth found a very interesting spot on the floor that was worthy of extended analysis. "Well, I've been thinking about it, and we've been really lucky, you know? That we found each other when we did, and have gotten the opportunity to spend so much time together, and ... nothing really serious has ever really happened to either of us, never mind the fact that the Seventeenth has the highest mortality rate in the Hunter organization. I never really thought about it until now. When X died, I saw how much it hurt Alia, and she wasn't even with him yet. I don't want to ever lose you – I don't think I could deal with it. Now you're going to be where X always was – right in the thick of every major battle. I thought about all this in that moment when I saw you, and I guess ... I guess I froze. All at once, I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like if you were gone. I know I shouldn't be letting my emotions jerk me around like this, but I can't help it."

Without realizing it, he swiftly brought both his arms up and pulled Beth into a tight embrace. He pulled her into his lap and made an effort to get her to look him in the eyes. He hated to admit it, but he hadn't once even considered what ... additional effect X's death might have on her. "Beth," he started, after a very pregnant pause, "you're right. We've been very lucky. When we started our relationship, we both knew that we were taking a risk. And we accepted that risk. There hasn't been one single time we've been dispatched that I haven't, for the briefest of instants, wondered if this is going to be the one that takes you away from me. But I've never let it stop me, because its my responsibility not to bow to my own fears. I always trust that, at the end of the day, you'll be there waiting for me, and I'll be there waiting for you. That's the only way I can keep playing the game. There may come a time when one of us doesn't make it out of a mission, but nothing's changed. I'm in no more danger right now than I was before. X didn't die because he was a Unit Commander, and more importantly, I'm not X. No one will expect me to do half the impossible, crazy things he did. If I thought anyone was going to, I wouldn't have taken the job. I'm just going to keep doing what I've always done – the best I can, as carefully as I can. As long as you still want to, I'm willing to take the risk, because I've never been happier than I am now, with you. We risk our lives everyday for people who, for the most part, hate us. We shouldn't be afraid to take risks for ourselves."

Beth snuggled into his chest and felt all the tension leave her body. She was thrilled that he hadn't snapped at her for being immature. _I guess I wasn't._ "I'll always be willing to take risks with you. Just promise me one thing."

"Sure. Anything."

"Don't do anything too terribly stupid out there, unless you've run out of good and moderately stupid ideas."

He smiled. "Done."

"One other thing."

"Yeah?"

"Log off and come to bed. It's late, and this mess will be here waiting for you when you wake up."

"I have no problem with that. If you would be so kind as to get off of me?" She punched his shoulder and shifted her weight, and the two of them rose. As they headed to bed, Quinn heard the words of X's letter to him echo in his head.

  


_Quinn, if you're reading this, two things have happened. Fate finally caught up with me, and I am no longer a member of the living world. More importantly, you've accepted command of the Seventeenth. You can never know how pleased I am by your decision. Quinn, from the time I started as a Hunter to the day I died, almost twenty-seven years passed. The Seventeenth has been under my command for most of that time – the only notable exceptions being before I was promoted to the rank of Commander and those rare, annoying instances when I was called in to oversee all Hunter operations. A lot of brave men and women have come and gone over the years, but one thing never changed. I've always had to have a plan for what should happen if I one day didn't happen to walk away from a battle._

_With a few exceptions that I've tried my best to forget, I've been proud to fight beside the dozens of Hunters that have passed through our over-sized assault unit over the years. They've all been brave, noble, and none of them – not once – has ever failed to do everything in their power to complete their missions and keep the innocent safe. That's the mark of a hero, not the propagandist crap the media and governments dumped on me. You are no exception, my friend. But I couldn't choose them all to take over. I've left this message for you so that you will, hopefully, better understand my motivation in recommending you to replace me._

_To be honest, I wouldn't want to choose them all. It takes a special kind of person to do what we do, I won't dare deny that, but it takes an even more rare type to lead. When you lead, you aren't just looking out for yourself, and your individual mission objectives, you're looking out for everyone around you. They say that, despite such humanitarian measures as the Geneva Convention, war has no rules, no boundaries. That's not exactly true. The Commanders make the rules, Quinn. The Commanders set the example their troops should follow, and, most importantly, watch out for those people under their control. If you show no fear, they'll show no fear, because you're the one they're watching, all the time. I remember when I figured that out. You could have knocked me over with a well placed hydrogen atom._

_You're probably wondering where I'm going with this, because you knew me. You know I never, ever thought I was better than any one of you. And as I'm writing this letter, I still don't. I'm just a guy, given a responsibility no sane man would want, and asked to actually do something with it. And I do my best. But I have never once tried to be a Commander. Never once have I thought of things from the elevated viewpoint my rank allows. I'm not a better person than any one of you, certainly not on account of the pips on my arm. I've just been myself, and, at the risk of sounding vain, it's worked pretty well._

_Like I said, I've always tried to just act natural and not let anything go to my head. Maybe that's how I managed to be more comfortable in this position than I ever had any right to be. When it came time to choose a person for my recommendation to Signas this last time around, I did something I've done many times before. I sat down, and I asked myself, who could be a great Commander without actually trying to be a Commander? That's you, Quinn._

_I've been watching you for the last four years, and from the first moment I saw you, I've been impressed by what I've seen. You're humble, calm, confident, cool under pressure, and you've never been afraid to tell me when you think I'm about to something completely insane. And while you usually agree with me in the end that the insanity is warranted, I've always been impressed by the fact you weren't afraid to talk back to "the legend." And I don't mean simply question. I mean getting up in my face and telling me I'm out of my mind. The first time you did it, and I saw the look in your eyes, I realized you didn't care anything about being a Unit Lieutenant Commander, or getting in my good graces, or anything that could be remotely considered career related. You have no idea how much respect you earned yourself in that one moment._

_And yes, okay, so you aren't the only one who's had the courage to talk back to me before, or that cares deeply about what you do. You aren't the only one that stays calm when all of hell is opened up and spitting its fury at us. But you have something that sets you apart from all of them._

_A lot of people don't understand what we're fighting for anymore. Are we fighting to protect a race that hates us? Are we fighting for ourselves? Some combination of both? I think you've answered that question for yourself. You have a life outside the fighting, Quinn. You and Beth have each other. You've managed to maintain a real, loving relationship in the middle of all this ... well sometimes it's difficult to find words to describe this mess. When I saw that, I knew I had my replacement. You know what that says about you? It says you understand why we have to do this. Free will. The right to live. The humans can hate us all they want, but we're living, breathing people, and we will always deserve to live. But Quinn – I don't know if you realize this or not – you're living now. There are times I envy you for that, my friend. It's time for the Seventeenth to be led by someone who knows how to live._

_I'm leaving everything, and everyone, in your very capable hands. I know you will lead them well. I won't give you any advice on how to do things, because you're not me, and you'll do things your own way. Just remember, whatever happens, the Seventeenth stands together, therein lies its strength. Good luck._

  


_Sincerely,_

_Mega Man X_


	5. The End of the Beginning

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) The black trench coat and meeting on the roof of the Intelligence building mentioned near the end of the chapter are references to the events of "Debriefing Period," one of my stories that takes place shortly after the end of Mega Man X6. Thanks to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. All feedback is appreciated. :) Enjoy.

  


_Russia is cold in December_, the man thought idly. _It's always cold here, though. Maybe that's why I've come to live here. Suits my mood._ He sat his now empty mug of hot chocolate down on a coffee table and rose from the couch, gliding over to a window. There was nothing but pure white snow, as far as the eye could see. _And further_, he thought smugly. It was a nice feeling, knowing there wasn't another living thing any bigger than a wolf within one-hundred-and-seventy-five miles. Very private – and he had to admit, he liked his privacy.

But he was no recluse. The world still felt his presence, when necessary. He was well aware of what went on around him, as his occupation required. His hand began to shake as an unpleasant thought rammed its way through his mind. He shut it down with a scowl. He was, in fact, one of the handful of men and women on the planet who knew the _exact_ circumstances of the death of Mega Man X. _I'm also one of the even fewer number of people who consider it a death_, he thought grimly. _It's funny, really. I can't bring myself to be surprised by the fact that he's dead. But I always knew he was mortal – just like any other man ... any other boy. But even so, I can't believe it was like this. Every time he found a way to change the rules and hand them a victory ... everything he's done for them ... and they shot him like a ... like a criminal! Damn it!_ He brought his closed fist down on the window sill, easily cracking the wood. Rubbing the side of his hand, he made a mental note to replace the panel. Again. The man reached a hand up and wiped a few tears from his deep blue eyes. _You didn't deserve this, X. None of you have deserved anything you've been made to suffer. Maybe now, you'll find your peace._ "You will be missed, X. And if you're listening, you did the right thing."

The man reached into his pockets and brought out two items. The first was a simple cylindrical wax candle, the other a small plasma torch. He sat the former on the window sill and quickly lit it._ 'Remember always to light the way to Heaven, that the soul on its journey may find its way home.' _He watched it flicker for a moment, then turned abruptly. There was much work to be done.

  


Douglas, all too aware he was ten minutes late for the morning's staff meeting, slipped quietly into the conference room and took his seat next to Lifesaver. He looked around. Sure enough, everyone, even Alia, was already there. He couldn't help but notice there was one less chair and terminal pair attached to their new table than there had been to the one Alia had split in two. He found it more than a little eerie. No one seemed too perturbed by his lateness, except Signas, who was giving his friend a concerned glance. It wasn't like the chief engineer to be late for _anything_, let alone a meeting of the senior staff.

"Sorry," he said finally, resting his hands on their new conference table, "I ran into a couple of delays this morning. What did I miss?"

"Don't worry Douglas, we haven't started yet. I myself just got here. Someone at the Global News Network seems to have gotten a hold of my private phone number. They've been making good use of it since about 0030 this morning. The sooner we find our mole, the better. I'm afraid I'm a little off my schedule." He scowled. "What kind of delays have _you _been having?"

Douglas shrugged. "Nothing serious. Someone in the armory got sloppy and accidentally set off an EMP grenade ... temporarily paralyzed himself and six of my technicians."

Lifesaver raised an eyebrow. "I hope you didn't just leave them on the floor."

"Of course not. I had them carried to the infirmary. Your nurses said they'd be fine in about an hour or so."

"Oh," Zero chuckled softly, "it was one of the good grenades."

For all of a second, Signas smirked, but just as quickly, it was gone. "Back to business, gentlemen." Everyone nodded. "I assume everyone realizes why we're here."

"X's final orders," Alia said simply. Her voice was calm and cool for the moment – rather emotionless. Everyone else nodded.

"Alright then, he left instructions that I read this letter in the presence of the senior staff," Signas continued, "is everyone ready to start?" Again, the assembled command staff let loose with affirmative, if not reluctant, nods. This was nothing more than another step on the path to living in a world without Mega Man X. As unpleasant as it was, it was necessary. "Let the record show that we began the reading at 0740 hours, on the second of December, 2152. Here we go." No one noticed Alia's jaw tighten. The Grand Commander manipulated the keys of his terminal, and began to speak. "I, Commander Mega Man X, do hereby certify that the following letter represents my final orders, bequeathments and requests, as last recorded June 6th, 2152.

"I would like to start this letter by thanking all of you for your friendship and kindness. I've known some of you, like Zero, for decades, and others, barely three years. But I have always been, and always will be, proud to number each of you among my closest and dearest friends. I sincerely hope my passing hasn't been too difficult on any of you." Douglas, Zero, and Lifesaver cast quick, furtive glances at Alia, but she was too busy hanging on Signas' every syllable to notice. "When I wrote this letter, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I honestly didn't have any idea just how much of an understatement that would prove to be. I'm going to do my best to stay concise and to the point, but please forgive me if my focus drifts a little bit every once in a while.

"As this effectively serves as my will, I realize there are a number of different things I need to address. It isn't very easy to figure out where to start, so as logic would suggest, I'm going to begin with what I feel to be the hardest of the tasks set before me. I'm not a very wealthy person, at least by most people's standards, but I've accumulated quite a few possessions over the last two and a half decades. I'll be the first to admit I'm not a materialistic person at all, but I realize now that I'm gone, it falls to you to figure out what to do with all my belongings.

"First off, I guess, my clothing. I don't have very much, but would like any of it fit for donation to be sent to the local Red Cross Clothes Bank. Everything except my brown leather jacket, favorite blue jeans (you know the ones, Zero), my brown leather belt, and one of my black turtlenecks. I'll explain that in a minute. I'm about average size – I'm sure the people at the Red Cross will be able to find some people who could make good use of everything else, and I'd much prefer they kept someone else warm than simply be thrown away.

"I guess I need to mention my fiscal situation. I'm not going to spend too much time here – I've never been one to obsess over finances. For obvious reasons, I cannot be sure exactly how much money I'll have at the time you're reading this. However, I am confident enough in my own fiscal management skills that I'm sure there's enough in my personal accounts and my pension package to settle any outstanding debts I may have. Please see that anyone I owe money to receives whatever my balance with them is. If there's anything left over (and there should be, unless my spending habits have drastically changed since I wrote this), I'd like it to be donated to the Hunter Memorial Fund. I'd like the donation to be anonymous – I don't want to draw any more attention to my passing than absolutely necessary." The Hunter Memorial Fund, set up by Doctor Cain mere weeks before X enlisted, benefited the dependents of deceased human Hunters whose pensions weren't quite enough to keep their families floating in the time immediately after their passing, due to excessive debt or other factors. Reploid Hunters were bared from taking advantage of the fund, as reploid marriages were not recognized as legal unions, and thus rarely sent in any kind of contribution. The Blue Bomber leaving them money was highly unusual, in and of itself, but everyone at the table knew it was undeniably _X_.

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, I guess the next thing is material possessions. I've put a lot of thought into this part. I wanted to leave each of you something special of mine. Over the years, I've accumulated a few things that are very important to me, for various reasons, and I'd like to pass them on to you – my family." Signas stopped and seemed to attempt to steady his hands before continuing. If anyone noticed, they said nothing. "Zero – again, I'm starting with the most difficult thing here. We've known each other far too long for it to be easy to decide what_ thing _I should leave you. We're brothers, and we always will be. I'm leaving you that, buddy. I want you never, _ever _to forget that you're on the right side. You deserve to be here, and I have always been proud to stand beside you. You told me once that you weren't quite sure who created you. I'm not entirely convinced of that. I think you know, and for whatever reason, don't want to tell us. I'm telling you now, it doesn't matter. We're _blood_, Zero – nothing will change that, ever. Take good care of yourself. I'd rather you didn't follow me anytime soon. There's also a picture of the two of us in my living room, from the wrap party after the Second Uprising. Remember dragging me to that? It's yours. Never forget." The Crimson Hunter bowed his head in seeming acknowledgment, though he was actually hoping to distract any attention from the tears once again forming in his eyes.

"Alia. Ever since I met you, I've treasured your friendship. You did more for me after the end of the Fifth Uprising than you probably know. I remember the circumstances we met under – they weren't the best. I've always been happy that our relationship wasn't defined by those few minutes. I'd like for you to have my collection of antique books. You're one of the only people I've ever met who seems to enjoy them as much as I have. I've been able to find inspiration in a few of them, and I hope you'll do the same. I'd also like you to have the crystal chess set I keep in my living room. I'm not sure if I ever told you this or not, but it belonged to my father. I found it in his room shortly after I was woken up, all those years ago. Be well." Like Zero, the once-uncrackable blond nodded in acknowledgment, inwardly thankful that her bangs hid her moist cerulean eyes from any cursory glances. Her hands, resting in her lap, clamped together tightly as she tried to disguise the fact that they were trembling. Within seconds, they were still once again.

"Signas, my friend, I'd like to leave you something ..." he paused for a second, as if realizing for the first time that he was now reading the section that pertained to him, "something that I think I can safely say is one of a kind. During the time periods I served in as Hunter Grand Commander, I kept a few of journals of my experiences. I've never shown then to anyone. They contain things that, quite simply, didn't belong in any official report, and that you won't find in any of my briefings. I'm not going to suggest you use them to find some great insight into what you've been asked to do with your life, but I hope you'll read them sometime, and remember that it isn't supposed to be a simple job that you have, and you never have to pretend it is. The diplomats may want to live in a dream world of perfection by regulation, but that's all it is – a dream world. You'll find them in a lock-box in the bottom of my storage closet. The key's inside the hanging wall clock shaped like a cat. Pull twice on the tail." Signas didn't react like either of the others. From the look on his face, it was obvious that his opinion was that he didn't deserve anything so personal. Despite the emotion his features betrayed, he didn't skip a beat in continuing to read. He seemed almost eager to get to the next part.

"Douglas – you've always been a very patient friend, and I've always been a little bit humbled by the devotion that shows in your work. You're a great engineer, and, as such, there's something of mine I would like you very much to have. There weren't that many things left in my father's lab when I woke up. I did, however, find something interesting in the room Cain and I believed belonged to Rock. It was in his closet – one very complete engineer's tool set. I think it was his, from his time as a lab assistant. I've always used it for my own little tinkerings. I'd like you to have it." Douglas, for his part, looked rather humbled, and seemed for the moment to be incapable of speech.

"Lifesaver – you're the man charged with doing something far more difficult than fighting the Mavericks. You patch us up when we come home. I can't imagine how stressful that has to be for you, or what it feels like to see someone come into the infirmary, and never leave again. If it's anything at all like knowing you've led someone to their death, you are most certainly the bravest, most devoted man I know. I'd like you to have the dreamcatcher hanging over my bed. Ancient humans believed it warded off evil spirits and, in some cases, nightmares. Going on empirical evidence, I find myself unable to object to that assessment. May you rest well, my friend. You're the best doctor I've seen in the last twenty-five years. None of us gets to win every battle, but I've never known anyone that fights harder than you." Lifesaver nodded in his laconic fashion, the barest glimmer of pride in his stoic eyes.

"That's about it for that. Except for one thing. I'm sure some of you know Audrey from Intelligence; the senior analyst in charge of spy satellite data processing. Over the past few months, I've been giving her daughter piano lessons. Their piano is about fifty years old, and I'm convinced it's on its last legs. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure they're not in any fiscal shape to replace it any time soon. I'd like one of you to ask her parents if they would like my synthesizer. I don't want to force it on them, by any means, and it's not something you should trouble them with right away, but if she wants it, I would be very happy for Angie to have it. If not, please donate it to the local community college. Their music program could use a booster shot. Everything else in my quarters not listed here – and there's bound to be something I missed, or that I didn't own at the time I wrote this, please deal with as you see fit.

"That brings me to the last item I need to address here – my wishes concerning my armors and my body. If anyone's been to my armor storage room, I'm sure you've noticed that, by now, if everything's gone according to my plan, the control and interface circuitry in each of my armors has been destroyed – what?" Signas cast a curious glance at Douglas. "What's he talking about?"

Douglas, like everyone else at the table, looked suitably stunned. "I have no idea, Signas. He never told me about any automated program deletions or anything. I haven't been in that part of the armory in three days."

Alia seemed to shake herself out of a trance, and began typing furiously into her terminal. After a few moments, she stopped, an utterly shocked, yet somehow not surprised, expression on her face. "Wow," she muttered softly, "clever."

"What is it, Alia?" Zero asked quickly. "What did he do?"

Alia was still reading whatever she had pulled up. "It looks like his ODOAT script executed some kind of custom circuit wiping program he wrote to trash the armors' control and interface programming. It's totally scrambled, just like –" she stopped abruptly, her mind catching up with what she was about to say. She was about to compare it to the render's effect on X's neural circuitry. "It's hosed. Very nicely programmed," she added with a hint of admiration.

"Well I'll be damned," Lifesaver said softly. "He always said he didn't want anyone using it or trying to figure out how it worked after he was gone. I guess he wasn't kidding."

Signas nodded slowly, expression neutral. "It's certainly his right. The armor was his property, the wishes of the UN's R&D Corps not withstanding. Now, ready to continue? We're almost done."

"Let's finish it," Zero growled. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

"Okay then." Signas cleared his throat. "Control and interface circuitry in each of my armors has been destroyed. I felt this was a necessary step to prevent anyone from trying to use technology that, quite frankly, I don't believe they were meant to have. From the tone of Doctor Light's messages, I've always had the impression that he didn't intend for the weapons he left me to be used by anyone else, and I have to agree with that. The people of earth are destructive enough without any extra help. I've fried the circuits – now I need you to destroy the armors themselves. Atomize them. I trust each of you dearly, but I can't take the chance some outside force will claim my armors and try – and succeed – in extracting technology from them." Zero felt something tighten in the pit of his abdomen. This was going somewhere he didn't want to be.

"That leaves my physical remains – oh hell." Everyone blinked. If he was aware of his flub or the surprised looks he was receiving, he didn't acknowledge either. "I guess ... even though we can't ... can't execute his orders ... it's a matter of respect that we read them."

"Yeah," Douglas said quickly.

"Of course," Lifesaver added darkly. "We may not be able to do what decency requires, but he took the time to leave this for us. It couldn't have been easy to write. He deserves to have it read at least. Go on." Zero and Alia, both wearing grim expressions, simply nodded. The spotter was looking a great deal more uncomfortable than she had when she sat down, and Zero was making an effort to appear distant.

Signas seemed to age several years before their eyes – which was odd, considering, like the rest of his race, he was blessed with eternal youth. "That leaves my physical remains. I've spent most of my life trying to figure out what happened to my family. Rock ... Roll ... Blues ... Doctor Light ... for some reason unknown to the history books, they all simply dropped off the map. Once I was woken up by Doctor Cain, I realized that they were all dead – they had to be. Don't think I've ever been lonely. With friends like you, that's not possible. I've devoted considerable time and resources to figuring out what happened to them over the years, but I'm afraid I've found nothing. For a brief period, I entertained the idea of having my remains placed with those of my brothers and sister. Rather morbid, I realize, but if you can't be with someone in life ...

Anyway, that's not happening either. Therefore, I humbly request that I be dressed in the clothes I earlier requested not be donated, and cremated. I would like to be sprinkled in the laboratory where I was found. That is the closest I will be able to come to resting with my family, and I suppose, it'll have to do.

"Well, I guess that's about everything. I've never been too good at goodbyes, so I'm not going to attempt one. Instead, and I honestly believe this, I'll just say that I'll see you around, when the time comes. Until then, take care of yourselves. – That's it. That's all of it." Signas sighed heavily and slumped in his chair. He had believed announcing X's death to the general Hunter population was the hardest thing he had ever been required to do. He was wrong.

Alia was deliberately pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to hide the tears trying to form in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, it wouldn't do any good to try and lie about why she was crying, but fortunately, no one seemed too terribly focused on her. Zero was slumped over the table, rubbing his temples, obviously trying to keep himself under control. Lifesaver and Douglas were looking at each other uncertainly. The only person watching _her_ was Signas, and try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to care what he saw. All at once, she felt like she wanted to go back to her room, curl up in her bed, and never come back out again. But she had responsibilities, obligations – and she refused to let her emotions get in the way of any of that.

"This is pathetic," Douglas said finally. "He trusted us to cremate him and take him to rest with his family – and we're going to hand him over to a bunch of overeager scientists who want to pick his body apart so they can figure out how to make better guns. And we don't have one bit of choice in the matter. This is pathetic," he repeated, slamming his fist into his palm.

"Indeed," Signas said simply. "I spent most of last night going over the UNHOC Directive. Unfortunately, I haven't found anything I can use to stop them. Whoever put it together was much smarter than the average UN desk clerk. I'm afraid we have no choice – we simply cannot," he threw a significant glance at Zero and Alia, "_legally _do anything to get out of this. I would suggest that we concentrate on the things in this letter that we can do. Douglas, can you safely incinerate those armors?"

The stocky chief engineer slowly nodded. "Sure. I can do it."

"Good. Get on it." Douglas nodded and left the room.

"Okay. I'll handle X's finances. Alia, Zero – according to this script, you're the only two people authorized to enter his quarters and sort out his things in there. I leave you to do that whenever you feel you're ready. Don't feel like you have to rush yourselves into it." The Crimson Hunter and senior spotter nodded solemnly. I'll contact the Red Cross when you're ready to arrange the donation of his clothes. As ... as for the piano ... I guess one of us needs to talk to –" he was cut off by Alia's voice.

"I'll do it," she said softly. Everyone present turned to look at her. "I know Audrey pretty well, and I've met Angie a couple of times. I'll stop by the Intelligence building on Monday and talk to her."

"Alia," Zero began, almost plaintively, but was cut off by a warning glance from Signas.

The Grand Commander spoke. "If you feel comfortable doing it, Alia, I have no objections. Again, take however much time you need." She nodded, and Zero seemed to relax. "I guess that's it for this meeting, then. I wanted to let you all know I'll be releasing the bait for our mole on Monday. Be on the lookout for any non-combat personnel that start behaving oddly. With any luck, we'll have him by the end of the week. Dismissed."

Everyone rose. Zero and Alia turned for the door and started moving, but the spotter was stopped by a light tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Lifesaver looking at her solemnly. After a couple of moments, he quietly spoke. "Alia ... could you stop by the infirmary in about ten minutes, alone? There's something I need to speak with you about."

Alia had no idea what he was talking about, unless, of course, he planned to attempt to talk to her about her recent mood swings. Looking in his almost uncomfortable expression, however, she didn't think that was it. She found herself nodding her head.

"Good. I'll see you in a few minutes, then." He left the room, and after a couple of minutes of conferring with Signas about the mole, she followed.

After they were gone, and the door was securely shut and locked behind them, Signas collapsed back into his seat. He put his elbows on the table and began to massage his temples in an effort to stem the stress headache he was beginning to feel. Why Doctor Light had seen fit to make X and, in turn, his descendants, capable of stress headaches, he would never know. He looked at his terminal, where X's letter was still displayed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry for failing you. Unless something radically unexpected happens, there's no way I can have your remains disposed of as you ask. Please forgive me, my friend."

  


Alia looked around the spotless, utterly sterile infirmary for any sign of Lifesaver. The relaxing off-white walls, simple silver flooring, rows of diagnostic beds, and the entrance to the operating center, were all there, but the Chief Medical Officer was nowhere in sight. She flagged down a nurse. "Excuse me."

The nurse was a young human woman, very likely fresh out of school. She had short cropped red hair and green eyes, and was half a foot shorter than Alia. She seemed slightly intimidated by the spotter – her hands fumbled a little bit as she readjusted her silver-rimmed glasses before speaking. "Lieutenant Commander Alia – how may I help you? Are you injured?" She seemed to give the blond a critical glance, as if trying to determine what, if anything, was out of place.

The corner of Alia's mouth twitched up. _I've found an eager one._ "No, no, I'm fine. Lifesaver wanted me to meet him here. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

The girl nodded. "Yes, ma'am. He's in his office."

"Thanks." The girl smiled as she moved past her. Alia made a point to keep her eyes fixed on Lifesaver's office door – there were certain things in this room she no longer wished to see. Despite that, she was still forced to shake off a shudder as she passed the diagnostic bed they had lain X out on yesterday. Eventually, she found herself standing in front of her destination. She knocked, and the two halves slid into the wall.

Lifesaver was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk when Alia came in. He quickly rose and offered her a seat next to him. After she took it, he smiled wearily at her. "Thanks for coming. How are you doing? That meeting was a little ... intense, to say the least."

Alia returned the smile, though it was considerably thinner and more than a little forced. It was hard for her not to react to Lifesaver's concern, as much as she would have liked to ignore it. It was easy to feel comfortable around him – he was, after all, a doctor, and she knew he wouldn't attempt to prod her into going anywhere she didn't want to. "I'm going to be alright. I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

"You and me both," the doctor deadpanned. _I know you're right, Alia. You'll be alright. But at the rate you're going, I'm afraid it'll be later rather than sooner._

"So ... um ... why did you want to talk to me?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. X ... X left me instructions to give you something in the event of his passing."

Alia blinked. "I don't understand. If it's something he meant to leave me, wouldn't it have been mentioned in the letter?"

Lifesaver shook his head, hoping this wasn't going to be too difficult to explain. "No." He reached behind him and and grasped a shiny, flat object. It was a little scorched, and the words were slightly blackened, but she recognized it immediately – X's Maverick Hunter crest. He turned it over in his hands, so that they were looking at the dull, unfinished back. Alia noticed he had very carefully pried it from it's resting place on X's armor. Normally, the teleporter system would remove it and store it in X's armor vault when he wasn't in combat, and attach it to whatever armor he recalled when he was deployed. She still didn't understand exactly what was going on here. Had X left her the crest? That made no sense – why not mention it in the will? She waited patiently for an explanation. Lifesaver's free hand moved over the piece of metal, and he positioned his thumb, index, and middle fingers over the corners, and pushed.

To Alia's extreme surprise, there was a soft clicking noise, and the back popped off. It was _hollow_. That simply wasn't right. Crests were supposed to be made of solid titanium, gold, or bronze, depending on rank and department. Moreover, there was something inside the thing. Lifesaver's hand was hovering over it, so she couldn't make out what it was. "I ... I don't understand."

Lifesaver moved his hand, and revealed a yellow bunch of fabric to be stuffed in the hollow. He seemed to be just as surprised by what he found inside as Alia. "He told me once that he kept something in here that was very special to him ... something that belonged to one of his brothers. He never showed me what it was. He said he liked to carry it with him into battle, because it made him feel like they were watching over him ... with him. A few months after the two of you became friends, he showed me how to open the compartment and told me to give its contents to you if he died. As for why he didn't mention it in his will ... I imagine he didn't want to promise you something in that letter that may or may not have been destroyed by the time we read it. If he was telling the truth, he's been carrying it for _twenty-six years_."

She didn't say anything, but reached out a trembling hand. Lifesaver turned the hollowed out piece of metal over, and let the yellow fabric fall into her palm. It instantly began to unfurl. She didn't open her mouth – the look on her face was one of pure shock.

Lifesaver couldn't stand the silence, or the look on Alia's face. "What's the matter, Alia? What is it?"

The spotter furiously blinked back the tears that dared try and escape her eyes. "Lifesaver ... you don't recognize this? I can't believe he wanted me ... he wanted me to have this." She pulled one of her white gloves off and ran a finger over the cloth. _It's so ... soft, like it's brand new._ Lifesaver blinked, and was honestly beginning to feel very stupid for not understanding what he was watching. After a few moments, Alia looked up at him. "How much do you know about recent history? About Mega Man, Roll, and Break Man, or, Rock, Roll, and Blues, as they were alternatively known?"

Lifesaver thought for a moment. "Well, I guess just about as much as anybody else –" Then it clicked. _Rock, Roll, Blues ... Blues ... the reclusive, much maligned first creation of Doctor Light's who was known, among other things, for his distinctive whistle and yellow scarf. Yellow scarf._ That was it. "You think that's ... that's _Blues' scarf_? Unreal ... that thing has to be a hundred and fifty years old, at least."

Alia nodded mutely. In a voice that wasn't entirely under her control, she spoke. "It is." She smoothed it out on her lap. It was huge, square, and (Alia knew this from her research back in her days as a student) the _exact_ same shade of yellow as the scarf Blues was always seen wearing. "I can't believe," she said quietly, partly oblivious to the doctor's presence, "he would leave this for _me_, out of all the people he could have given it to." She swiped at a tear that had managed to make it halfway down her cheek, blotting it into oblivion.

Lifesaver was back in control of himself now, the initial shock over and done. Looking at Alia holding the ancient piece of cloth, running it carefully through gloveless fingers as though it were some holy artifact, he felt a stab of sorrow, more painful than any he'd yet known in his twelve years of life. Watching her wide eyes, filled with a mixture of awe and sorrow, he knew that the Fates had outmaneuvered them, and something that promised to be wonderful had, in infancy, been brutally killed. For a while, he just sat there, watching her stare at Blues' scarf, at a loss as to what he was supposed to do.

Alia stared at the yellow fabric, totally lost. Like everything else she'd been bequeathed today, this was something she wasn't expecting. The books and the chess set ... they had been personal – but _this_ – never mind the fact that it was nothing more than a big yellow cloth – this was something far more than that. X was one of the few reploids that could actually stand up and say he had a family – one of the even fewer that believed it. She held in her hands a piece of that heritage – something he wanted her to have. "But ... why?" She balked. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Nevertheless, after a few moments, Lifesaver had, if not an answer, a reply. "Because you were important to him, Alia. He carried that with him so he could be closer to his family when he needed them the most – during war, when his body wasn't the only thing taking a beating. It must have been good for his heart, to be able to believe that they were with him, no matter what. He didn't give me anything specific to tell you when I handed that over – I didn't even know what was in it. But maybe he wanted you to have it because it was his way of letting you know he'll always be with you, no matter what happens."

Alia nodded mutely. Then something seemed to snap in her mind, canceling out whatever response she was about to give. "Lifesaver ... thank you for giving me this. But I've got to run. There's something I need to take care of." She carefully folded the old scarf up, still handling it with all the care of a mother holding a newborn child, and stowed it in a compartment of her armor. "I'll see you around," she continued, slipping her uniform glove back on.

She left the room. Lifesaver watched her go. After she was out the door, he was alone, left to ponder the cruelties of fate.

  


Alia slipped quietly into her quarters and locked the door behind her. Onyx had been in the common room reading a detective novel, and nearly jumped out of his synthetic skin when she offered him a dazed, yet not unfriendly "good morning" and a small, distracted smile. _Why shouldn't he have been_, she would think later, _I didn't attempt to bite his head off. That's a big deviation from my current behavior._ She had a suspicion that there was a very specific reason that, starting around four o'clock yesterday afternoon, the common room always had at least one person in it until at least 1130 hours, who just happened to be one of the Seventeenth's elites. Furthermore, she suspected she was part of said reason. But she had other things on her mind. As she headed for her small, in-quarters office, she reached down to her waist and opened the storage compartment that served as her light armor's right pants pocket. Still handling it with the utmost care, she placed the yellow fabric on an empty spot on her desk, once again letting it unfurl slightly. As she sat down, she again pulled off her uniform gloves – both of them this time – and laid them on the windowsill behind her terminal. She'd chosen to place her desk in front of a window that overlooked downtown Tokyo and, in the distance, what was left of Mount Fuji, but at the moment, her view was the least of her concerns. All her attention was focused on that simple piece of yellow.

_I wonder what you mean_, she mentally quizzed. Unsurprisingly, the cloth did nothing in response save catch a breeze from an air vent and unfold just a little more. _Why did he want me to have you?_ She desperately wanted to believe Lifesaver's explanation. That he really _did_ want her to know he'd always be with her. But why tell her that, like this, unless – no, she forbade herself from thinking anything like that. It would do no good anymore.

_Well_, the voice of reason sounded in her mind, _there is one way to find out. If he meant to give you a reason, or tell you anything at all about it, you know where it'll be. Somewhere you haven't wanted to look just yet._

Alia frowned. But it was the truth. She most likely had the answers right at her fingertips – she was simply too afraid to look at them. But that ended now. She wasn't a child, despite her age, and wouldn't act like one. _I should have done this yesterday._

__Bracing herself, and taking another look at the yellow parcel, Alia activated her personal terminal and brought up her inbox. There were 250 new messages waiting, but she ignored all but one. She brought up the document called "Letter to Alia," entered an authorization code in order to deactivate the encryption, and began to read.

  


About twenty minutes later, there was still very little activity in Unit Seventeen's common area. The only notable difference was that Onyx had given up his Sherlock Holmes novel, and was now playing a quiet game of Go Fish with the newly woken Quinn. Beth, like everyone else in the Seventeenth except for Alia, its Commander, and demolitions expert, was still asleep. Though neither of them said anything, the demolitions expert and the tiger both figured no one really had any desire to wake up and face the current situation any earlier than they absolutely had to. 

As far as Commander Quinn was concerned, that was just fine. It only made what he was about to attempt that much easier. "Do you have any threes?"

"Go fish," Onyx growled, almost bemused. Never mind the fact that Go Fish was, in fact, one of the simplest card games known to man – Quinn managed to lose almost every time he played. It was almost amusing. Mumbling, the white tiger drew another card, and from the look on his face, it was obvious the trend wouldn't be changing anytime soon. Normally, Onyx would have been enjoying the spectacle more, but it was obvious that the furry feral _wanted_ something. "So," he began, "what do you want to talk to me about, Quinn? There's obviously something on your mind."

Quinn shrugged nonchalantly. _Well, here we go._ "Am I that obvious?"

"Not really," Onyx smirked, "but usually, when you're losing this bad, you find an excuse to stop before you're holding half the deck."

Quinn mock-glared._ Okay. Let's make this quick and to the point. _"I'm glad I've become so predictable. So ... I'm guessing you realize that, with the change in my rank, I need to choose a new second-in-command."

The stocky demolition expert nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He had a sneaking suspicion of where this was going. "I am aware of the current gap in the command structure, yes. How are you doing with choosing your replacement?"

Quinn hoped he didn't sound too nervous as he spoke. "Well, actually, I was hoping _you_ would be my second-in-command."

Onyx's face remained infuriatingly neutral as Quinn finished speaking. He appreciated the offer, of course, but he'd had the same conversation with X a number of times – and refused on each occasion. The only thing that kept him from turning down the Seventeenth's new Commander, was, quite simply, the fact that he _was _the Seventeenth's new Commander. The rules had changed, and he supposed he'd lost the right to refuse anyone outright – and besides, he couldn't bring himself to do that to his friend, not when he seemed so nervous about asking. So instead, wearing a small smile, he spoke the truth, "I'm honored that you would ask me to do that. But I have to ask, why me?"

Quinn blinked. He had expected a quick yes or no. But he was learning the world liked to throw anything at him_ but_ simplicity."I thought that would be obvious. I need help. You've been doing this for ten years – a hell of a lot longer than me. You've got a lot more experience than I do, you're one of the most methodical men I know,_ everyone _trusts and respects you and your judgment,and," he smirked, "out of the eight combat-ready members of Unit Seventeen that aren't me, you're the one least likely to let me do anything _too _stupid. And I'm not entirely sure I won't attempt a few undeniably asinine things before this is over. And I hope my little speech just now didn't make me look like a complete, patronizing idiot."

Onyx grinned, trying not to blush at the rapid-fire flattery. His face grew serious again after a few moments. "First, you're still standing tall in the middle of this mess, which means you're doing pretty good so far. And don't worry. You aren't being patronizing at all, though that doesn't necessarily mean I agree with everything you said. You're expressing your honest opinion. We'd save a lot of time if everyone didn't try to be so evading and manipulative. Mind if I ask _you_ a question? Why not Beth? I assume, based on her performance and talent in the field, you were also considering her."

Quinn nodded, pleased he hadn't been instantly told to forget it. "I was. She's smart, clever, and she's good at making quick decisions under pressure. And don't think it's because I believe my relationship with her would impair her response to me in the field. She's above that. Still, you have a lot more experience than she does, and as cool as she is under fire, you're cooler. But – and I'll be honest here, I'm no idiot. If I die in battle, the Seventeenth's field Lieutenant Commander has to take over for me, instantly, without so much as a second thought, with no regard to anything but the mission. I'm worried that she wouldn't be able to do that, not fast enough, anyway. If the roles were reversed, I don't think I could. And I'd never put her in that position. On stats and experience alone, you're it. Given the emotional interplay between Beth and I, there's no question. I would be honored if you would do this."

Onyx sat back in his chair, deep in thought. After almost half a minute, he asked, "Quinn, do you know why I never accepted X's offers to be his second?"

Quinn shook his head shortly. It looked like he'd lost the battle. "No." _No one knows but you._

"Care for a moderately long story?"

Quinn blinked. _Is he about to tell me why he's always refused X? No way._ "Sure. Of course."

"As you know, I'm fifteen years old. I don't think I've ever told you about what I did before I was a Hunter. I guess it all started about three months after I was born." Quinn nodded. The first three months of a reploid's life were spent in what was called "basic sociological education." Every descendant of X was born with the ability to understand almost every language on earth and the basic intellect of someone who had completed secondary school. They still, however, had to learn how to survive in a mostly human society. BSE was meant to give them a baseline of sorts, so they wouldn't be entering the world completely unprepared. "I had to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and for some reason I still don't completely understand, I decided I wanted to study chemistry. I signed up for the Reploid Apprentice Program, with a chemist. They shut it down before you were born. I don't suppose you remember what it was?" Quinn nodded. The REP was shut down mere months before he was constructed, but had been around for eight years before that. With their advanced learning capabilities, picking up the facts of a trade was a quite easy (and rather speedy) process for most reploids. But in some occupations, there was really no substitute for experience. The REP was a coalition of human men and women that allowed young reploids to live in their homes and work along side them. At the same time these nubile robots learned how to work, they also learned about what it was like to live and form relationships with humans. By the time they were done, they were much better prepared to live alone. At least, that was the idea.

The program worked quite well, but was unfortunately forced to disband after it was ruled to be far too dangerous for the participating humans. The Mavericks saw them as particularly desirable targets – right up there with children and religious figures. It seemed they didn't appreciate their superior race being tainted by those with the gall to force "outmoded and useless customs" on them. Never mind that all REP trainees joined purely by choice.

Onyx continued. "Good. Well, they paired me with this very nice lady – she was in her early thirties, I guess. She was single, and didn't have any children. Her name was Cindy." A far off, dark look crossed his face, but he continued. "Do you remember what we're like when we wake up that first time? Remember how naïve and trusting we are? How easily we make friends?" Again, Quinn nodded, engrossed. He had no idea what this had to do with his current request, but he had the distinct feeling he was hearing something Onyx had never discussed with anyone else. "I made a mistake, Quinn. I got attached. Over the next five years, I learned just like I was supposed to, but something else happened. This nice, lonely woman that took me in – I began to see and treat her as ... she became somewhat of a mother to me. You know, we reploids have a few very significant advantages over humans. One of them is, unless you're stupid like me, reploids never have to feel the pain of seeing their parents murdered." Quinn's face betrayed the surprise coursing through his system, but before he could so much as gasp, Onyx was moving on again, his trademark growl somehow even lower than usual. "Even after I left, we still talked quite a bit, and we saw each other often. One day, she called me up. She was engaged to someone she'd been dating about a year, and they were moving into a bigger house. She wanted me to help her pack.

Onyx's eyes flashed. "I showed up, and went inside, calling out her name, telling her I was there. No one answered. When I got to the kitchen, I found out why." Quinn flinched, but he didn't care. He'd never seen Onyx turn that shade of green before. "You know, four-point-seven liters of blood doesn't sound like much, but once you've seen just half of that covering an entire room, you realize it's quite a bit of fluid."

Quinn gasped, or, more accurately, emitted the non-breathing synthesized equivalent. "Oh my ... she ... she was dead? Was it one of us?"

"Yeah. It was a Maverick. But she wasn't dead yet. I was too shocked at the time to figure it out, but I eventually found out her attacker had gone through great pains to make sure she died slowly. It was one of the most horrible things I've ever seen, even after ten years of this. I took her to the hospital – I had borrowed a sedan to help move boxes in, thankfully. When I got there, two things happened. First, they took her from me, _instantly_. Secondly, being that I was a reploid covered in blood, they assumed I did it – figured I meant to drop her off and drive away. I thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard – after all, why would I bring someone to a hospital if I went through the trouble of trying to kill them? I found out later it wasn't such a stupid question after all. The hospital security people kept trying to grill me, but it was obvious, since I wasn't confessing, I wasn't telling them what they wanted. They were obviously bored with their jobs ... they wanted to nail a Maverick. After a few minutes, they told me they wanted to use a Neural Probe System to see if I was telling the truth."

"_What_?" Quinn was horrified. Neural Probe Systems were nasty little machines that interfaced with a reploid's neural net and displayed all recent memories in full color, with full sound, just as the reploid had experienced them. Any human would balk at that kind of personal privacy violation, citing the International Bill of Rights, but the descendants of X were denied any such protection. NPS sessions were also one of the most painful procedures a reploid could undergo. "Did you let them?"

"I had no choice. Remember what I said about being naïve?" He shuddered. "The bastards convinced me they wouldn't treat her unless I did it. Of course, they already had her in surgery, but I didn't know that. I believed them. I was still out of it, and I got so turned around that I didn't realize they_ had _to take care of her.I let them have free run of my brain. I still remember how utterly pissed they were when they couldn't find anything to pin it on me, but at the time, I barely noticed. Now I was doing the forcing. Imagine my surprise when I found out they'd been working on her the whole time. I was too relieved to be angry. I knew she'd put me on her emergency contact list for situations like this, so they had to treat me like a family member. They had to let me in on what was going on. As soon as I got one of them to give me a set of scrubs so I wouldn't track blood all over the hospital, I went back to the waiting room ... and waited. No one came to tell me anything. She was in surgery for six hours. And I waited. I wasn't alone, though. After a while, her boyfriend made it to the hospital. I remember how shocked I was when he asked me to stay with him.

"Eventually, a doctor came to see us. He didn't seem nearly as concerned with what I was as his associates had. He tried to sugar-coat it for us, but it was simple – despite everything they'd done, Cindy was going to die. It would be a miracle if she ever woke up. She'd lost too much blood, and too many of her internal organs were damaged. No amount of medical nanobots, even with surgery, could fix that kind of injury fast enough to save her. Her boyfriend, Billy, and I stayed with her at the hospital after that. Again, Billy asked that I didn't leave. It seemed like having me there with him made it easier, I guess. She never did wake up. Six days after I brought her in, they declared her brain dead, and ... that was it. They told us later that they _might _have been able to save her if I'd gotten her there at least twenty minutes sooner. She'd been bleeding out for about forty. I didn't know she was in trouble ... I was buying boxes. She ... she wanted more boxes." Unlike Alia, he made no attempt to hide the tears he brushed away from his eyes, and for a good while, silence reigned.

Quinn couldn't figure out what the best thing to say at this particular moment was – he could barely think of anything to say. Eventually, he managed, "I ... I'm sorry I forced you to remember all this."

Onyx forced a smile. "Don't worry, I've always remembered. I've just never discussed it before. Not even with X. You're probably wondering what all this has to do with your question. After she died, something occurred to me. Now, I knew what it was like to grieve for someone. Just another way to lose your innocence, I guess. I knew I wanted to do something – whatever I could – to try an spare anyone else from that feeling. Four months later, I joined the Hunters, specializing in chemical-based demolitions. I've been here ever since.

"I was never in it for vengeance. I never found the Maverick that attacked her, and I doubt I ever will. With any luck, one of us has already gotten him. I just wanted to do my job, blow them all to hell, and keep them away from people that just didn't deserve to feel the kind of pain I've felt. It was that simple, and being a Commander is just an extra variable I've never felt any need to deal with. That's why I never became a Lieutenant Commander – there's no where to go but up."

Quinn assumed that was his long-awaited "no," and began to speak, but Onyx held up his hand. He wasn't done just yet. "But you know, recent events have made me realize something – namely how damned selfish and juvenile that sounds. I didn't want a command position because I didn't ever want to risk that kind of personal attachment again. But," and he waved his hand to indicate everyone, sleeping or awake, attached to Unit Seventeen, "it might be time for me to grow up a little. The offer still stand?"

Quinn nodded almost giddily. He couldn't believe what he was pretty sure was about to happen. "Of course."

Onyx smiled thinly. "Well then, I'm in."

A wide grin split Quinn's face – wider than he normally allowed for the sake of not drawing attention to the fangs the lunatic that designed him had included. "Great. I'll get the paperwork done immediately. It's either your promotion form, or some bizarre requisition sheet for military grade turtle wax." Onyx raised an eyebrow. "Just don't ask. I'm convinced some of that stuff is fake. It has to be."

Onyx chuckled briefly, beginning to recover from his brush with the past. "Well, as my first official duty as your second-in-command, I guess I should give you the latest on your spotter. I saw Alia on her way back from the reading this morning."

"Oh? How was she?"  
"Well ... she spoke." Onyx went on to describe her mood as several doors opened, and Hunters began to spill into the room. The day had officially begun.

  


Zero collapsed on his couch for the second time in as many days, dropping his helmet unceremoniously on the floor. He felt his body, for better or worse, relax into the cushions. He had survived the reading without breaking something or screaming in frustration when the matter of X's remains came up – that was _something_, at least. He couldn't really believe how exhausted he felt. _I guess I never really thought I'd have to sit through something like _that_. I've never been this closely involved with anyone else's death, even one of my own people ... except for _her_. _He didn't mind the shame he felt at his next thought – more than anything else, he wanted all of this to be _over_.

_But it'll never be over, will it? Just like X said, as long as I'm alive, I'll always remember him. I wonder if he realized I'd never forget watching him die._ Zero looked at the ceiling, mentally scolding himself for daring to so much as think such an absurd question. _Of course you knew, didn't you? You probably figured we ... I could deal with it. I hope you're right. I don't have you to help me keep my head screwed on straight this time. But you were confident enough in me to ask me to watch out for Alia for you – and she's more of a mess than me right now, X. I'm not sure I know what to do. Right now we've got a list of things to get done. I'm don't know what I'm going to do once all that's accomplished. I hope your confidence and trust wasn't misplaced. Right now, I'm not entirely sure either way._ He blinked. Had he just spent the past seconds mentally conversing with a dead man? The answer, he admitted, was a resounding yes. _So what? If there's even the smallest chance there's a here after this, I'll take it. I _want_ to take it, even if I'm too damned jaded to easily believe it._ _But I'm going to try. If you're up there, X, I hope you aren't spending too much time watching us flounder around down here. It may not be pretty right now, but we're going to get through this, dormant Sigma or not. The Universe officially owes us one. Then again, in paradise, hopefully there aren't that many windows to Hell, so maybe, just maybe, you can't see this mess. That would be much better._

__Zero shook himself. That was enough talking to the dead. It wasn't going to get him anywhere, he knew. The reading of X's will was over – and he had things to do as a result. He stopped only for a few more moments to contemplate the seemingly cryptic reference the letter made to Zero possibly knowing who his creator was and choosing to withhold the information. X's personal final farewell to the Crimson Hunter, which he had read the night before, elaborated on that point. It said quite clearly that X believed Zero was the final creation of Doctor Albert Wily, and had thought so since the end of the Fourth Uprising. Apparently, Sigma had dropped the Blue Bomber one too many hints over the years, enough for him to finally piece the puzzle together. Furthermore, the Commander of the Seventeenth somehow was sure that Zero _knew_ it was the truth. Again, Zero could only blame Sigma – he was the only person who knew enough to be able to give X that information._ No_, he decided,_ that isn't really fair. X might not have been able to lie, but he was just as hard to lie to. He would have known when I was trying to hide something from him, more than likely. _The Maverick Commander no doubt hoped to sow seeds of distrust between the two chief defenders of civilization. That knowledge only made X's parting remarks about brotherhood and trust that much more significant. Whatever the nature of his mysterious past, X had always trusted him, never once doubting that he was a friend – never once believing that he was still the instrument of pure destruction and malice Doctor Wily had intended him to be. He was proud of that bond between them, and always would be.

X was the only other person besides Sigma who knew anything about the truth of his birth, and he wasn't sure anyone else who gained the knowledge would still see him in the same light. _Not even Alia_, he thought darkly. The thought of the girl he found himself slowly, unwillingly developing fraternal feelings for not being able to look him in the eye without betraying distrust and fear was sobering. No, for now – for the foreseeable future – the truth had to remain hidden. He couldn't afford Alia losing her trust in him, not when he'd been asked from beyond the grave to see to it that she made it through the current situation, and he couldn't defend a race who questioned his allegiance to the cause of good. The Avenging Angel was dead, and humanity was stuck with the Demon. He knew he had to be trusted now like never before. It would be best if no one realized just how accurate his dark nickname really was.

"Alia," he whispered aloud, suddenly aware of something he should have already done. Both he and the Seventeenth's spotter had been given full access to X's personal database, and could go through it at any time from their quarters. Given her current state, he knew it was very unlikely she would be looking around it at the moment, but at some point the two of them were going to need to go through X's quarters, and she might well want to get it over with then and there. Before that could happen, there were certain items he felt he should remove from the file listing – things it would be better, for the moment, she not see. As much as he wanted her to begin the grieving process, blasting her with surprising, potentially more depressing revelations was not, in his opinion, a proper catalyst. With that in mind, he quickly sprung to his feet, grabbed his helmet, and made for his desk.

He sat down and keyed in a few commands. The index of X's personal database began to scroll up the screen. The Blue Bomber was indeed a very organized person, so he found what he was looking for after only a few minutes. "Away you go," he whispered, setting up a transfer queue.

  


Around eight o'clock, Daniel Winters rolled groggily out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife's still form. It had been years since he had slept past four, but when he had finally managed to fall asleep around one the previous night, he was far too exhausted to so much as contemplate getting up early. That not withstanding, there simply wasn't anywhere for him to go anymore. He cast a glance at his uniform, strewn across a chair. He would never wear it again, he knew. Somehow, this didn't bother him that much. Unfortunately, it didn't make him feel any _better_, either.

He rose and began to head for the adjoined bathroom, but seemed to change his mind and crept out into the hall. _I don't want to wake her up. Better use the guest bathroom._

Minutes later, hot water splashing over his muscular frame, he stopped to think about the events of the previous evening. He remembered quite clearly the utterly dumbstruck look on his wife's face when he told her he'd resigned his commission. She had asked him why, and he was faced with a decision. His discharge orders demanded that he never, so long as he lived, release any information related to any classified programs he was involved in, not even to his wife. So, he could stick with the official line about X being killed by hostile forces and lie to her about why he was getting out of the game, or he could risk prison and tell the truth. The decision was obvious – he was through with the military, but his marriage was hopefully far from over.

He grabbed for the shampoo tube, squeezing it viciously as the memory of the horrified look in his Sarah's eyes after he was done with his sorry tale flashed through his brain. Disbelief, shock, maybe a little bit of disappointment ... it was all there. She said she understood why he had to do it, but he knew the only way she'd really ever understand was if she had been there, and that simply wasn't the case. She had only looked him in the eyes twice since then, neither of which during her promise that she understood he had to execute humanity's greatest champion. She had hugged him when he started to cry and promised him everything would be fine, but he wasn't sure she completely trusted him anymore. _I guess it makes since I didn't have any nightmares. Being awake is painful enough._ He still saw X's battered face staring back at him whenever he closed his eyes, waiting for the shot that would end his life.

Fifteen minutes later, the former US Army Captain was dressed and groomed for the day. He wore jeans and a yellow golf shirt – pretty much the only clean clothes he had that didn't bear the symbol of the United States or its defense forces. It was a good thing he would be doing the laundry tomorrow. He stuck his head back in his bedroom. Sarah rolled over so he could see her placid face. Red hair fell in her eyes, and every once in a while she rooted around in an attempt to get it away from her nose. He caught sight of her tear stained cheeks and, sighing, morosely headed to the kitchen in hopes of scraping up enough coffee grains to come up with something that tasted marginally better than mud.

Just as he turned on the coffee machine, the phone ring. He pounced on it like a crazed tiger, hoping it hadn't woken Sarah up. He set it for audio only, pressing the handset to his ear. "Hello? Daniel speaking."

_"Dan? This is Ben. Ben Dixon. How are you?"_ The voice on the other end of the line was tired, yet anxious.

Winters smirked in spite of himself. A call from the young computer engineer was the last thing he would have expected after he jumped ship. "I've been a hell of a lot better, Ben."

The voice on the other end sighed. _"You and me both, buddy. Be glad you got out."_

Winters' shoulders sunk slightly. "I couldn't stay. Not after what my _duty_ demanded I do."

_"I understand. I can't believe ... I can't believe they made you do that. Damned horde of cowards. They threw me off the project. Apparently, now that they've used me up, they're done with me. They haven't asked for a voluntary discharge, but I think that's only because they're trying to think of something else they can get me to build for them. Like hell. No more blind allegiance to a bunch of pompous idiots more concerned with the stars on their collars than anything else. Do you have a few minutes to talk? There's something I wanted to discuss with you."_

"Sure. Let me step outside. Sarah's still asleep."

_"I'd _much _rather we got together. It's been so long since we've managed to grab lunch together. I'm starting to think you don't like me anymore. I know a nice indoor Italian place."_

Daniel was now paying full attention to his friend. "indoor Italian place" was a twenty year old code used to indicate suspicion that the communication system was bugged. It hadn't been in official use for the past fifteen years. Ben was taking a big chance by assuming any Army intelligence people who might be listening in weren't up on their recent military history. _But what are you worried about, buddy?_ There was one way to find out. "I'm in. Where do you want to meet?"

_"I'll pick you up around ... say, eleven? Feel free to bring Sarah along. I haven't seen her in forever."_

"Deal. I'll see if she feels like it. I don't think she's too happy with me right now. But she's not the only one, so ... Anyway, see you then." He terminated the call. "This should be interesting," he mused._ He sounded exhausted and excited at the same time. I'm betting he didn't get much sleep ... something's kept him up. _"Interesting indeed." Filling a mug, he went off to check GNN.

  


Ten minutes before eleven, Daniel Winters found himself standing outside his house. Alone. According to Sarah, she didn't feel very much like seeing Ben Dixon right now. Knowledge of the young, friendly Lieutenant's involvement in recent events seemed to shock her just as much, if not more, than any revelations about Daniel's own role. After all, the former Army captain would have had nothing to pilot if not for the engineer's work. Sure, she knew nothing was directly his fault, but the fact remained that without his involvement, there would have been no XCBM ready to steal, and her husband wouldn't have been forced to kill Mega Man X. No, she wasn't angry with him, but she wasn't quite ready to look him in the face, either. _And_, Daniel figured, _she's not married to him. She doesn't have to put up with him if she doesn't want to._

His thoughts were broken when Ben Dixon's black convertible burst around a corner. The off-duty Lieutenant came to a stop directly in front of his friend, giving Winters a clear look at his attire. The computer expert was wearing light blue jeans with a yellow t-shirt, a pair of dark sunglasses, and a black baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He seemed nervous. "Please get in," he said quickly. "We'll talk when we're moving." Definitely nervous.

Winters did as he was asked, but not without a fair amount of involuntary smirking. He'd never seen his friend attempt to dress and act covertly. His approach needed work. He dropped into the two-seater's passenger chair. The car was in motion before Winters had completely closed the door. "Nice cloak and dagger act. What's going on, Ben?" Dixon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached under his steering wheel as he pulled into the street and flipped a switch. He was rewarded with a single beep. Winters recognized it as the all-clear tone from a standard electronic bug detector. He seemed pleased. Winters blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."

For the first time, Dixon spoke, his tone indicating that he was indeed nervous. "Nope. That's a bug detector. I can't take the chance that someone's listening in on us."

Winters found himself more and more interested in whatever was going on here. "I'll bite. What have you done that makes you think someone's trying to put a tap on you? And who, exactly, would be doing the bugging?"

A thin, mysterious smile crossed the programmer's face. "I'll get to that. I'm not sure I'm being watched, but if anyone's keeping an eye on me, it'll be MacDonald, Captain."

Winters put his curiosity aside for a moment, and his next comment sounded a good bit harsher than he intended. "I'm not a captain anymore, Ben. I'd rather you not address me as such."

Dixon nodded. If he was bothered by the sudden sharpness in his friend's tone, he didn't show it. "You know," he said quietly, "if you hadn't done it, Dan, someone else would have. You're probably one of the only people with your ... uh ... former rank that finds anything at all wrong with any of this."

"That's pretty much exactly what he said."

Dixon raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"X. Before I killed him. He wanted me to the the one to do it since I knew it was wrong. I guess he didn't want his executioner to enjoy it too much."

The younger man paled a little. "Damn. I ... I didn't mean to –"

"Don't worry about it, Ben. What's done is done. I don't plan on dying any time soon, so I'll have to learn to deal with it."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one getting out," he offered, merging onto the highway.

For the briefest of moments, Winters entertained the possibility that Blake managed to find what little bit of soul was hopefully lurking in his womanizing, cowardly body. MacDonald was a lost cause. "Oh?"

"Yeah. There are few things I need to ... finish up, then I'm gone. I won't allow myself to be used _ever again_," he finished, his voice flashing with bitterness.

_That_ was unexpected. "You ... used ... what are you talking about? What's going on?" He didn't get it. He hadn't been out of the game for more than twenty-four hours, and he was already completely out of the loop.

Dixon sighed. "Danny, I'm afraid we've been lied to. MacDonald's been withholding information from us the entire time. There are several ... less than savory elements of the XCBM project we've been purposefully denied information about."

All at once, Winters felt anger boiling up within him. Sadly, he was beyond any serious amount of surprise. "What the _hell_ are you talking about? Are you sure?"

Dixon nodded, and all at once Winters realized he had no idea where they were, or where they were going. Moreover, he didn't really care. "Your reaction to what I just told you about the project confirms my suspicion that you've been kept in the dark too. We got screwed, Dan. Hard."

The former mechanized combat expert was all business now. "I'm listening. Start from the top."

"I got ditched yesterday. MacDonald kicked me out of the meeting he'd called to discuss the disaster in the park shortly after it was revealed that X was involved. I have to admit, I didn't react all that well. I'm afraid my brain stalled for a few minutes."

"Understandable. Go on."

"A little while later, I was in my office and I got a message notifying me I'd been dropped from the XCBM project. Apparently, my services as computer engineer are no longer needed. I made those components easy to repair, replicate, and maintain. I didn't want someone without my level of technical understanding to be in trouble if it broke down in the field. I'm afraid my generosity has come back to bite me in the butt. Needless to say, in light of recent discoveries on my part, that's a non issue. There's a whole dimension to the project I wasn't even aware of. If I'm right, and I should know for sure in about a week, this is about a lot more than just simply designing the next generation of combat mecha. I'm not constructing anything else for those bastards again. Ever. They'll have my resignation as soon as I'm done hunting through their computer systems. It's a lot easier to do while I still have my clearance, even if I've been forced to do some ... augmentation."

Winters frowned. "You're talking about unauthorized access of some kind, aren't you?"

"I'm ... going to choose not to answer that. I will say that I'm going through a few unofficial channels."

"What brought all this on?"

"It's too convenient. The way I was treated yesterday ... it's obvious that bastard MacDonald was hiding something from me. The XCBM Task Force is designated Research and Development, isn't it?"

"... Right?"

Ben shook his head. "Sorry. Wrong answer. I did a little digging. We ... the Task Force hasn't been under the Research and Development umbrella for the past three months. Right now, the Special Project Registry has it under "Pre-Production." They're tooling factories up. The XCBM Project is two weeks from full production."

"What the hell? Are you serious? I am ... was scheduled to do three more months of test maneuvers. I don't understand."

"And my engineering team was assigned to continue tweaking the prototype. It's all a show. They're going with the master plans from three months ago. You and I were apparently part of some kind of charade."

"Shit. How did you find all this stuff out?"

"Again, I don't think you want me to answer that. And it isn't really the point. I've barely scratched the surface. There's something majorly off here."

"No kidding. I knew MacDonald was squirmy. I just assumed it was part of his personality. I never thought he could actually be up to something."

"Got swept up in the grand promises didn't you? And you gotta hand it to MacDonald. Keeping a sleaze like Blake around to draw attention away from his own moral deficiencies." Winters looked down a little. "Hell, you aren't the only one that got hosed. Like I said, we got used for _something_. I'm just not sure what."

Winters nodded. "I have to agree. I've got to ask though, and I'm officially with you on this so don't you dare evade me again, how did you figure this out?"

Dixon groaned. "Truth? I started to suspect information was being withheld from me. You know how big the Army Library Computer is. I had to start looking somewhere. I started digging around official project goals for the XCBM and came up with these incongruities. The more I looked, the more bizarre it became. I had to get out of the system relatively fast, though. I'm intimately familiar with the security protocols. Circumventing them for any long period of time is very difficult. As for the information I gave you, it's not even classified. Just ... withheld from the two of us, it would seem. I'm betting Montalbaan's in on this too. Just a hunch, of course, but I have no reason to trust her at this point, especially since Blake's shown some interest in her. He tends to be interested in less than savory women."

Winters ignored the jab at Blake, not that he disagreed with the assessment. "If we have been subject to misdirection, it was carried off very effectively. I mean, what's the point of looking if you don't think something's being hidden from you? I never had any reason to suspect MacDonald was playing either of us."

"Me neither. He's too good of an actor. But he was rattled yesterday. He's got some kind of plan working here, and X's death as a result of clashing with the XCBM," he ignored the pained look in his friend's eyes, "wasn't part of it. He's shaken. He showed a little of his hand. Just enough for me to want to look closer."

"Good assessment. Any idea at all what's going on?"

The side of Dixon's mouth quirked up, just slightly, in an expression of intellectual triumph. "As for why this is happening, I haven't got the slightest idea. Short of asking MacDonald, I'm going to have to break into his personal files, or Blake's, and that's going to be a lot harder than anything I've done so far. But I can tell you _how_ the misdirection was carried out, and, though this is purely my opinion, how this was supposed to play out." Winters nodded eagerly. "Alright. Let's look at it like this. There are two streams of data at play here. The first is the briefing information you and I were given at the meetings. It's obviously deliberately flawed. The second is whatever MacDonald, Blake, and Montalbaan are getting and passing between each other, which pertains to whatever the hell is actually going on here."

"Logical. Go on."

"I will, but first, I need to ask you a question. What's the stated purpose of the XCBM project, and this is important, as it was given to _you_?"

"Simple. The XCBM is, and I quote, 'the next generation of land based battle mecha. It will be powerful enough, fast enough, and durable enough to allow a single pilot to engage a number of heavily armored Mavericks that would otherwise be too powerful to defeat using conventional mechanized tactics. Upon successful testing of the prototype, models of the XCBM will be distributed to the Maverick Hunters as well as military and police forces all over the world.' Why do you ask?"

"Damn." Dixon scowled. "That's exactly what they told me in my initial briefing. Part of me was hoping they were playing us against each other. I could have gotten some extra intel from you."

"Good try," Winters managed a half smile, "but I'm afraid I'm just as much in the dark as you are, if not more. But you said there's two separate operations going on here, one – the one we're seeing – obviously faked."

"Indeed. Here's what I think is happening. We were scheduled to go public in what, eight months?" Ben asked.

"Right."

"Here's what's likely to happen. We would indeed go public at that point. But the question is, with which plan of operation? The real one, or the one we've been fed? We still don't know what the full purpose of the project is."

Winters' face lit up in understanding. "They go public with the fake, allowing them even more leeway to do whatever they're already doing now. If they didn't want to tell us, there's no way in hell they're telling the media until _after_ they spring it. There won't be anything anyone can do about it at that point ... what ever _it_ happens to be."

"Exactly. So we're left with the critical question. What is the real purpose of the X Caliber Battle Mecha Program?"

Dixon nodded, but said, "That's not the critical question. The critical question is how do we find out?"

"Point." He frowned. "I'm out of the game, Ben. By the end of the week, all the paperwork will be finalized, I'll get my severance package, and I'll be retired. I'm not sure what I can do to help you."

"You can listen, buddy. I didn't expect you to do anything ... except maybe have a different story about the project goals I could compare to the one they gave me. I knew we were both being jerked around. I just wanted to see if we were being set against each other, in case one of us figured it out. Apparently, that's not the case, thank God. That's a level of complication we don't need. But any advice you might have is certainly appreciated, and I wanted to run my theory by you."

"I believe you, and it definitely sounds like something fishy's going on here that deserves to be investigated. But something tells me you didn't really bring me here just to get my approval."

Dixon's face darkened, and for the first time that day, he couldn't keep anxiety from coloring his features. "I'll be honest. I've taken a lot of risks already. Stealing classified information amounts to treason ... and even though what I've told you isn't officially under seal, it's obvious it's mean to be hidden. I figure the only reason it's not officially classified is that would increase it's visibility in the system. Breaking into Army computer databanks isn't exactly legal either. And there's still the matter of getting in and out of MacDonald's files. His security's likely to be more complicated than what I've seen so far. I'm good, Danny, but there's no such thing as a completely traceless hack. It's a very real possibility that I will be detected. I've already had a few close calls with the data security programs."

Winters frowned. "What do you intend to do?"

"The only undetectable way to do this is to get MacDonald to log in to his files, then leave so someone else can sit down and search for the files. That's not happening. Unfortunately, this isn't a spy movie, and I don't have security clearance to even be on the same floor as his office. You're the only one I can trust, and like you said, you're out of the game. I checked ... your clearances have already been revoked. It looks like I'm going to have to break in, and there's no guarantee I won't get tracked down."

The frown deepened. "That would certainly _not _be good. Getting arrested for improper technical resource use is one thing. Making an enemy of MacDonald in the process is another. You sure there's no other way you can do it?"

"I am. I'm going to be as careful as possible, even to the point of doing this over a week instead a single brute force attempt over the course of a few hours. The more subtle the attempt, the less likely it'll be quickly detected. But I have to consider the possibility of screwing up. Once I get the data, it'll take them a little while to get to me. I'd like to give you a hard copy. If I get arrested by any MPs, you'll know within twelve hours. I'll hide a monitoring program in the computers to notify you if and when my name enters the Military Police's database. The program will then delete itself. There will be no indication it ever existed."

Winters nodded reluctantly. "You're serious about this, aren't you?" It was obvious he wasn't pleased with the notion.

"Damn right. Something rotten's in play here. We need to find out what, and using official channels is totally out of the question. Anyway, when and if you're notified, assume I didn't get the information to anyone who could use it to uncover whatever plot is afoot. If I do get it out before they quash me, I'm betting they'll have a lot more pressing matters to attend to than arresting me. Not that I'm much of an optimist lately. More than likely, you'll have to do it. Are you in?"

"Thanks to those bastards, I'll have the image of Mega Man X's head, complete with gaping, large hole between the open, blankly staring eyes, and the knowledge that I was the one that killed him burned into my memory for the rest of my life. If there's anything at all I can do to help make those ... _cowards _pay for what they've done, I'll do it. Yeah, I'm with you, Ben."

"Good." He smiled thinly and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a sealed envelope. "If I get caught before I've managed to get the crap to hit the fan, take the hard copy to the person whose name and address in the envelope."

Winters smirked. If the situation weren't so serious, Dixon's spy routine would have been kind of funny. "And if you don't, Mr. Bond?"

"Burn it. There's no reason to involve her in this if we don't have to. Who the hell is Mr. Bond?"

"Never mind. Just be careful, Ben. Like I said before, MacDonald's not a man you want for an enemy. I'd like to see you make it to retirement in one piece."

  


_"This is Trevor Collins, Global Network News. It's two in the afternoon, December second, 2152, and here are the headlines at the top of the hour:_

_The world is in an uproar over the seeming destruction of Maverick Hunter Mega Man X. Sources inside Maverick Hunter Headquarters leaked video of Signas, Grand Commander of the Maverick Hunters, breaking the news to the organization's hundreds of of non-combat staff, medical personnel, and field operatives in an announcement that was apparently not only seen at Maverick Hunter Headquarters, but also at all major Hunter installations around the world. We've been playing that announcement at intervals for the past twenty-three hours, and independent analysis suggests that it is, indeed, authentic footage. At this hour, oddly, there is still no official comment from the Hunter Public Relations department, leading some to believe the world famous soldier, a legend in recent history, fell during some kind of classified operation, the details of which Hunter Command, or perhaps the United Nations Hunter Oversight Committee, are unwilling or unable to release at this time. The only solid information we have suggests that the twenty-six year veteran Hunter Commander was killed as a result of action against, and I'm quoting the leaked video stream, 'hostile forces' in a successful effort to protect civilians from some un-detailed threat. Whatever the reason for keeping such a tight lid on the facts regarding this tragedy – and no matter what you think of reploids or Hunters, this is certainly a dark day for humanity – the reticence of the all but shut down Hunter PR machine has done nothing but increase fears and concerns among the international population. Indeed, many of our field reporters are telling us many communities are seething with dread and anxiety; in some of the larger cities that sentiment is bordering on panic. Thankfully, we have yet to see any riots or other signs of society destabilizing._

_"We are receiving reports of a world wide rush on stores, markets, and warehouse distributors as citizens weary of a long and protracted conflict with Maverick forces are shoring up on water, canned goods, and other supplies. It would seem that news of Commander X's destruction has led millions to assume that Sigma has reasserted himself with unprecedented force. With no other official news from _any _source, I'm afraid that's quite a logical assumption. However, GNN would like to take this opportunity to remind its viewers that the states of emergency, school and business closings, and high security alerts consistent with the beginning of a Maverick uprising have yet to go into effect, and do not seem imminent. However, we have seen evidence of extra precautionary measures being taken at critical facilities such as hospitals and power distribution centers. Indeed, some observers are suggesting that this was a random catastrophe and isn't related to any coordinated anti-human activity, but until someone confirms something, it's all just conjecture._

_"One thing however, is not conjecture – at this hour, Mega Man X is dead – or, for those of you who don't believe his kind are living things, deactivated ... permanently. The man who some people would say is singlehandedly responsible for saving the entire human race from extinction on multiple occasions is no more, and all indications are that he died for us. No matter what the circumstances, the world changed yesterday. It certainly wasn't for the better, but let us hope it doesn't get too much worse before it settles out._

_"A little while later, we will be hearing from several of our correspondents around the world with reactions from communities large and small. While we're waiting on that, we're going to go over today's other major stories ..."_

  


__"...we're going to go over today's other major stories –" Zero stabbed at his television remote, and the viewscreen went dead. "Hell. Just gets better and better. It's pundit time." He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked out the window. _If it gets any worse, we'll be in blizzard conditions. Since when is the road to hell paved with snow?_

All at once, his videophone rang, breaking whatever deleterious train of thought was trying to form in his mind. He swiveled his desk chair back around so he was looking at his terminal, and accepted the communication. Alia's face filled the screen. As had become routine for him over the past twenty-four hours, he tried to read her face as best, and as discretely, as he could. As was also routine, it was infuriatingly, unnaturally neutral. Still, something about her was different. All the sudden, it hit him, and he tried as hard as he could not to stare at her neck. For wrapped around it was a startlingly yellow piece of fabric. He thought he should recognize it, but he could not, so he brushed it off. "Alia? What's up?"

A tinge of discomfort crossed her face for a moment. "Zero ... I just wanted to ask you ... you know how we've got to go through X's ... X's things, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Right."

She averted her eyes for a moment. "I was just kind of wondering when ... when you wanted to do it."

_Alright ... I knew this was coming._ "Honestly? I'm not looking forward to it ... at all."

"Me neither. But I don't expect myself to be any time soon." Her mood hardened a little more – a fair amount of emotion bled away into nothingness. "But we need to do it sooner rather than later. Quinn's going to need those quarters for whoever he brings in. And if I know Quinn, he'll be making his decision soon. It would probably be better for the rest of the unit, too. Everyone's getting a little jumpy around his quarters. That, and I ... I want to get it behind me, Zero. I ... I need to get it behind me."

Again, Zero nodded. It took a supreme mental effort on his part not to breathe a sigh of relief. This was the closest thing he had seen to Alia actually admitting that she was holding back her feelings so far. "I understand. I want to be done with it too." And that was true enough. The "casing of the quarters," as this particular circumstance was known among Hunters, was never something he had particularly liked having to do. Since it was X's living space in question, that dislike and discomfort only intensified.

"So ... what I really wanted to know ... do you want to do it today?"

Zero was surprised. He figured she would have wanted to wait at least another day. _Best to go with it. Get it done while she actually wants to do it._ "Sure," he said finally. "What time?"

  


Beth looked forlornly at the letter in Quinn's hand. "I give up."

Quinn grunted, wadding the paper up in his hands and tossing it into their bedroom's trashcan. "Don't worry about it, honey. We'll get it sorted out. You and I both know there are countries that give reploids marriage licenses."

"I know. I'm just tired of this, Quinn. This is our tenth rejection. And we can't afford to pay five-thousand dollars for a Russian license or move to North America. Either way, there's no way half our guest list could come if we had to go to another country. It's sort of a bad omen, if you ask me."

Quinn shook his head. "Nonsense. If they don't want to make it official, that's their problem. I don't need a little piece of paper to know that I love you."

She smiled and readjusted herself on the couch. "Same here, sap."

He smirked lightly. "Do you have a problem with my behavior?"

"Not at all. I guess ... I guess we could still do the ceremony. It just wouldn't be official." She slumped to the side slightly so their shoulders were touching and rested her head on his arm.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He knew how much she wanted a real wedding, official in the eyes of the law. She was old enough to understand a great deal about how the world worked, but it was obvious she didn't really understand this. _Hell_, he thought, wrapping an arm around her, _I don't either. I've already found a church that'll do it. That should have been the hard part._ He didn't dare tell Beth anything about that though, not until they were ready to choose a location. It was X that directed him to the small Methodist church just outside Tokyo. It was three-hundred years old, miraculously still standing. The kindly old minister had no problems with marrying the two of them. He didn't so much as give it, or the fact that he was seemingly staring at a pair of Christian artificial life forms, a second thought.

"No," Beth said suddenly, sharply, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be worrying about it right now. Not after –"

"Hey," Quinn cut her off softly, "what do you mean now's not the time? He's gone, Beth. We can't stop living because of what's happening. We might want to, but we can't. If you want to discuss this, you shouldn't feel guilty about it."

Silence reigned for a full minute, and she finally sighed, gestured at the trashcan and asked, "Any other ideas?"

Before he could speak, a chime filled the air. "Be right back." He moved swiftly through the three room apartment until he was standing in front of the door. It slid back, revealing none other than the Crimson Hunter. He wore black jeans and a white t-shirt, and his face featured one of its more serious expressions. Quinn instantly noticed the collapsible boxes he held under either arm, and felt something twist in his abdomen. _So it's time._ "Zero."

"Quinn ... I just wanted to let you know that Alia and I will be starting on X's quarters in a minute. We might have to move some stuff out into the common room for a few minutes, so it might get a little crowded."

The stealthy tiger nodded slowly, and when he spoke again, it seemed to be a product of great personal effort. "Alright. Do I need to do anything?"

Zero shook his head. "Not for the moment, but if we need you for something, I'll let you know, Commander."

  


"Computer, lights on." For the first time in twenty-four long hours, light flooded the quarters of the former Commander of the Seventeenth Unit. Zero was sure it was the eeriest thing he would ever see. If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn everything was completely normal. The kitchenette off the living room was spotless, as usual. The full, dual keyboard synthesizer in front of the window was covered in the sheets for one of Beethoven's symphonies. The coffee table in front of the couch was covered in magazines and a copy of the novelized version of the late 20th Century American Civil War drama _Glory_. Zero caught sight of X's desk and office chair through a crack in the bedroom door. The only thing remotely out of place was the vacuum cleaner leaning against the wall next to the hall closet. He knew X well enough to know that was the Blue Bomber's way of reminding himself to clean the floors sometime in the next week. The Commander of Unit Zero turned to Alia. "You sure you're ready to do this?"

The spotter stood stock still. Unlike Zero, her arms were unencumbered; they hung limply at her side. She too was taking in the scene, though her expression did not betray an equal amount of familiarity with what she was seeing. She had only been a Hunter for twenty-four months, and in that time, she very rarely entered X's quarters. This was her fifth visit. She was quite clearly looking at everything as though seeing it for the first time. "Let's ... get started."

Zero nodded, but neither of them moved. "... What should we do first?"

"Uh ... We can leave the synthesizer alone for now. I won't talk to Audrey until Monday. Give me a few boxes. I'm going to clean off the bookshelves."

Zero did as asked, then looked around as something new occurred to him. "You know what? He didn't tell us what to do with the furniture. None of this is standard living equipment from Residential Resources. He owned all of it." He sighed.

Alia looked up from the box she was unfolding on the floor, her eyes slightly wide. She shook her head, and almost smiled. "Really, Zero. As if we didn't have enough to think about." Zero shrugged and bent down to help her build a few more boxes. "I heard Douglas say Storage Area Two is empty a few days ago. They just cleared out a bunch of new plasma cannons we just got in for the Excelsior mechas."

"Okay ... so what do we do after we move it?" Zero asked.

"We'll worry about that then. Pull that tab out for me. Who designed these stupid things? Some weirdo with three arms?"

  


Alia pulled Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_ from the shelf and wiped the dust off the ancient hardcover. "Didn't like this one too much, did you?" she whispered, carefully laying the book in an open box. She slid the now full container towards a stack of twenty Kaygar Instant Boxes destined for her room. Off to the side of the small synthetic cardboard fort (capped off, not coincidently, by a mint condition Waterford full-crystal chess set) Zero had gathered the lock-box destined for Signas, X's tool chest and dream catcher, and a little further off, a framed eight by ten – his private share of X's material legacy. It portrayed the Blue Bomber and Crimson Hunter, side-by-side and back to back. X was offering the camera a peace sign and a rare full toothed grin. Both of them were still in full combat armor, minus helmets. Zero, and pretty much everyone who knew X at all, knew the only reason he was smiling so soon after an Uprising was the fact that the blond berserker had returned from the dead. "That's the last of the books," she called out in a voice that wasn't nearly as strong as she intended.

"Okay," Zero replied from the kitchenette. He saw her blinking desperately at the tears brimming her eyelids, but said nothing. He wouldn't react until she wanted him to. "I've boxed up all the glasses, silverware, cooking utensils, and china. The fridge is empty, except for some cola and a few bottled waters. Other than that, there's nothing else in here. He ... really wasn't much into eating, and I've made it a point over the last two decades to actively discourage any cooking."

"Probably a good idea."

"Alright, Alia. What's next?" It occurred to Zero that the two of them were going through the room in anything but an organized fashion. It was more of a "what's gong to make me least uncomfortable" approach.

She paused, considering the question. She glanced at the bedroom, and unconsciously shook her head. _Not yet_. It was Zero who retrieved the dreamcatcher – Alia had yet to set foot in the room. "Let's get ... I want to be done with this room before we do anything else. What should we do with the pictures?" She gestured at the two framed images hanging on the wall. One was an oil based work – the city of Tokyo at night, as it would have appeared in 2012. Alia had no idea what the other one was, though she had seen it a number of times. For whatever reason she had never brought herself to ask. It was a watercolor image of a man and a woman in front of a blue background. The man was the shorter of the two, with black eyebrows, black mustache and beard, and sharp blue eyes. A bright smile lit his twenty-something face. He wore a colorful tie-died shirt that fell the full length of the portrait. The woman next to him was a good head taller, with long blond hair, blue eyes, and light complexion. The artist pictured her yellow sun dress ruffling under the influence of an unseen wind.

Alia pointed at the second picture. "I never asked him who they were. I don't suppose you have any idea?"

Zero shifted on his feet. "Not for sure, no. It's something else X found when Doctor Cain woke him up. We came to the conclusion that the man is a younger version of Thomas Light than history is used to."

Alia nodded in agreement. "And the woman?"

"At first, we thought it was Roll, but we ruled that one out when we looked up the historical data on her. That woman is too tall to be Roll, so ... I have no idea."

"Why did he have to forget to tell us what to do with something so ... big?"

Zero shrugged. "I'll get them off the wall. We'll worry with them later."

"I wonder if he would have minded if we hung them ... out there." She nodded in the direction of the Seventeenth's common area.

Zero offered her a small smile. "I don't see why. I'll put them outside by the door, then."

Alia nodded, and the smile left her face. She bent down to the pile of Instant Boxes and pulled out a long, deep one. "I'm going to start the hall closet."

A few moments later, she swung the door open, unconsciously attempting to steel herself for whatever she was about to see. Thankfully, at first sight she was greeted with nothing more than a small collection of coats, jackets and sweaters. She began to remove and fold them one by one, lying them in the first of many boxes headed for whatever charity decided to accept the donation. She stopped only briefly when she pulled out a long, black leather trench coat. She remembered instantly the first time she'd seen it – that night, eighteen months ago, on the roof of the Hunter Intelligence building after her failed attempt to revive Gate. She remembered what it felt like against her skin when X draped it silently over her shoulders. _How_, she found herself wondering,_ could that only have been eighteen months ago? It feels like last week._

She folded it like the others, but stopped short of putting it on top of the garish plaid sweater in the donation box. She instead laid it on top of a box containing the collected works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. If Zero noticed, he said nothing. She went back to the closet as though she'd done nothing out of the ordinary.

A few minutes and another box later, her task complete, she turned to Zero. "Zero ... where's his bomber jacket? It's not in here. Maybe ... maybe it's in his bedroom closet."

"It isn't," Zero said before he could stop himself. Alia stared at him, willing him to elaborate. After a moment and with obvious reluctance, he did. "Alia, did you see him at all yesterday?" She shook her head. "He was wearing it ... when he went to the park. Along with those ancient jeans."

Alia blinked. "Oh. So ... they're in one of the armor pods then. One of us should ... I'll ... get them later." She put a lid on the box. "The closet's done." She sighed. "That leaves the bedroom, doesn't it?"

Zero's frown was unmistakable. "I'm afraid so."

"Damn. Come on."

  


Zero flung the door to X's bedroom open almost viciously, yet somehow prevented it from slamming against the wall. Like everything else in the small apartment, it gave the impression of something totally and completely _interrupted_. The full sized bed was unmade, a sign that he had been planning to change the sheets before the day was over. Zero thought that was odd. X usually changed the sheets once a week, on Monday. No matter what the cause, it gave them both a perfect view of the white sheets with yellow smiley faces and the sky blue comforter splayed haphazardly over them. Unlike the other room, the walls were bare. The terminal on the perfectly organized desk was still in standby mode, though it now sported a status window proclaiming that security lockout protocols were in effect. The clock on the nightstand next to the bed ticked silently; everything was in its place, except for X.

"I think I'll start with the bathroom," Zero whispered, knowing he was beating Alia to it but not caring as much as he knew he should. The restroom was the most emotionally innocuous part of the master bedroom, and he knew that. But it didn't stop him from disappearing into the tile room with a plastic container in his hand.

The Maverick Hunters' senior spotter took in the room, face neutral. She was left with the question of how a 1200 square-foot apartment could be so _large_. _I guess I should check under the bed. He might have kept something under there. Then I can do the closet._ She crept softly across the room and knelt next to the bed, putting a hand underneath the frame supporting the mattress. With what amounted to zero effort on her part, she lifted the corner of the bed six inches in the air – and almost dropped it when she saw what was underneath. She flattened her palms on the carpet and unknowingly hung her head. She felt her stomach knot. If she were human, she would have been running for the nearest toilet.

After a full minute, she reached a hand underneath the bed frame and pulled out a roll of shiny blue wrapping paper emblazoned with gold, flowing script that repeatedly proclaimed to all who would read it: "Happy Birthday!" All at once, she was torn between the desire to rip the roll in half and handle it as though it were some ancient relic. In the end, she ended up sitting on the bed with a roll of waxed paper in her lap.

Without realizing it, she began tracing each little smiling, innocent yellow face on the bed sheet with her index finger. So many little faces grinning up at her ... all of the sudden, she found herself wondering how anything could so much as look so damned happy right now. Suddenly, her hand brushed over something a lot rougher than the surrounding cotton. She looked down, and saw a dark patch of ... something peeking out from under the pillow. Instantly interested, she grabbed the headrest and pulled it up.

This time, her hand flew to her mouth to cut off a scream, and her already jarred artificial stomach did a back flip. "Oh ... oh ..." The top of the sheet was drenched in a dried thick, blue-black liquid. _Circulatory fluid._ In the back of her mind, the part that was still functioning, she noted from the color and hardness of the coolant that it had been there at least three days, most likely since the hostage event at Mount Rushmore. _But he didn't report any injuries with me or Lifesaver. Why?_ She had her answer almost instantly. The infirmary was a mess after the Rushmore incident – twenty percent over capacity. If it was non-critical, X would have treated the injury himself. He was a certified field medic, after all – he knew how to take care of most superficial wounds. "I guess that's why you wanted to change the sheets, huh? You could have told me, you know. I wouldn't have been worried." Was that the truth? She didn't really know any more. She wasn't really aware of the words coming out of her mouth, and she had no explanation for the sobs that were escaping her throat.


	6. Sunday Blues

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) Thanks to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. All feedback is appreciated. :) Enjoy.

  


Lifesaver looked up when his office door's chime sounded. "Come in."

The five foot reploid that strolled in was what his species considered thin. The red cross below the number Seventeen on his shoulder matched his eyes and hair, but stood in stark contrast to his blue and white camouflage armor. "Afternoon, Doctor. Do you have a minute? I'm having a slight problem I was hoping you could help me with."

The Chief Medical Officer nodded at the Seventeenth's field medic. "Of course, Mark. Sit down."

"Thanks." He pulled out a chair across from the older reploid.

"So what's the problem?"

"I just finished checking my field equipment. My portable scanner isn't checking out."

Lifesaver frowned. All field medics were equipped with portable scanners that mimicked the function of the infirmary beds' diagnostic computers. Among other things, they were vital in diagnosing problems with reploids who no longer had conscious access to their damage report and control systems, and absolutely critical in treating humans, who had no damage control or diagnostic interfaces at all. "Oh? Well, that is a problem, isn't it? Any idea what the glitch is?"

Mark scoffed. "There's no one specific thing wrong with it, as far as I've been able to tell. I've given it one of Doug's people for diagnostics. Personally, I think the glitch is it's a ten year old piece of equipment that's scanned its last patient. I tried to use it on Beth a couple days ago, during our last mission. It took me ten minutes to convince the thing she wasn't a dead human – and she was plugged into it!"

Lifesaver shook his head and whistled. "Yeah. It's done. No wonder you looked so frazzled when you came back from that one."

"Well, you know, if people are going to fire plastique grenades at my patients and I, I expect my equipment to have the decency to work."

"Understandably so. So, what did Douglas' tech tell you?"

Mark's frown deepened just a little, and Lifesaver figured he was about to get to the meat of the problem. "Simple. It'll take two weeks for a repair crew to get around to doing a full diagnostic, and odds are they're just going to have to order a new one anyway. But they have to do the whole diagnostic song and dance to get UNHOC to authorize the purchase of a new unit. And, worse yet, at the moment there are absolutely zero field scanners available for checkout – won't be for the next two weeks."

"Lovely." Lifesaver's lip twitched upward. "Kind of ironic, isn't it? How all your triage skills mean absolutely zip when one piece of equipment breaks down. So tell me, how are your divination skills? You'll be needing them."

"Not good, I'm afraid. I tend to get along well with leeches, though. I was wondering if I could borrow the trainer unit you keep in here. Just until I get a new piece of equipment. I doubt Sigma and his forces would be so nice as to not injure anyone for the next two weeks if I tell them I'm not capable of complicated field diagnostics."

Lifesaver looked thoughtful. "You do realize breaking the supply chain is a relatively sharp breach of supply chain protocol? So, in essence, you're asking me to break the rules because UNHOC is making an ass of itself. Again." Mark didn't understand the odd look of masked anger that filled the chief surgeon's eyes. He only knew it didn't seem to be directed at him. "I have no problem with that. Come on. I'll get the keys to my storage room."

  


Zero rolled to the left as the blue laser seared the wall he'd been standing against. The heat from the beam was fierce, even through his armor. He smirked as his knees found their way back to the ground, sliding one up and forward. _Not even close_. But then again, they never were. He brought his buster up to face the chrome spigot of death – even now it was recharging – and fired. His over sized cannon spat forth a glob of fiery white plasma that slammed into the turret's base._ Child's play. _The iridescent cerulean energy in its barrel died instantly, replaced with a shower of sparks. Zero knew that was the last of it. This mission was over. He lowered his weapon, deactivating his arm cannon, and with the drunk rush of battle gone, waited impatiently. Another moment, and the simulated battlefield disappeared in a flash of light, leaving him standing alone in the white-washed confines of Tactical Training Room Three. A voice, neutral and lifeless, boomed from the heavens. "Subject: Commander Zero; Tactical Combat Simulation Fifty-Four: Enemy Installation Infiltration Scenario Gamma-Seven, Complete. Simulated damage to test subject: minimal; non-critical. Total test time: Thirty-two minutes. Test results: Excellent performance."

Zero's smirk evaporated as he rose from his one-kneed crouch. A small frown took its place. _Thirty-two minutes? What the hell is wrong with me? That's way too slow. I can usually do this one in half the time. _The answer was painfully obvious. He still wasn't back to normal, as far as his mind went. His innate rage, that never-ending fire he could tap into to synchronize himself with the battlefield – it was still there, but it was damaged, smoldering instead of blazing.

If he ever stopped and thought about it, ideology aside, he realized that was the difference in how he and X fought. X existed _on_ the field of battle. He altered its elements as he saw fit to accomplish his goals – removing an enemy gunner here, creating an exit or entry there, or simply blowing everything up in general – but it was always on the terms of one man looking at a set formation of pieces and asking himself what was the next move necessary to win. It was logic and determination at its coldest and most efficient ... and most deadly.

Zero existed as a _part_ of the battlefield, allowing himself to be mesmerized by its every ebb and flow. Conscious thought faded to the background, except for a vague yet certain sense of who was a friendly, and who was not, and what he needed to accomplish. Everything else – almost every fiber of his being, was devoted to decimating anything that stood against him. He became a primal force of destruction, and nothing could stop him.

Or, that was how it used to work. Every time he tried to slip into his zone now, the events of the past two days caught up with him, and he never quite got there. From a tactical perspective it was a problem, but that wasn't what really bothered him. He was mere _months _younger than X, as far as actual activation time was concerned. He was a twenty-six year old Maverick Hunter Commander. In that quarter of a century, dozens of Hunters perished under his command. Less than X, but he suspected that was only because his unit was smaller. He wasn't soulless – he grieved for them all. But never once had he been left feeling so totally _shut down_. Well, there was Iris, but she wasn't a Hunter, she didn't count. But her death did bring him to his knees as far as mentality went. Only now, X wasn't around to thrust him out of his pseudo-listlessness. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

He paused in his thoughts, and couldn't help a dark chuckle at the bizarre nature of the support group the three of them had formed over the last two years. When Zero developed an emotional quagmire, it was X that forced him out of it, usually by following him around and hounding him until the Crimson Hunter finally vented, just to get him to go away. In the end, Zero always felt better, and X always looked pleased, never once seeming to mind the verbal blasting he got in the process.

X's problems were usually of a different sort, and Zero admitted he was never as good as dealing with them as he felt he ought to be. The best he could really do was sit and listen – something it seemed precious few people were ever willing to do. But most of the time, he honestly couldn't _understand_ X's problems. The Blue Bomber accepted this, and it didn't really seem to bother him that much. Zero guessed it was the reassurance he craved. X allowed himself to become depressed over the deaths of Mavericks in combat. Every murderous thug that went down at his hands weighed on his conscience. That made no sense to Zero. Mavericks were the enemy – a threat to peace, and in some instances, life itself. That threat had to be eliminated. X agreed, but never managed to move past the bouts of depression and self-loathing that consumed him from time to time, most notably after the conclusion of a major counteroffensive.

Then there was Alia. Unlike Zero, she seemed to understand that part of X's personality better – and was thus better able to deal with it. Slowly but surely, she'd been supplanting Zero's role as Chief Antidepressant. Did that mean they shared a common sort of decency Zero lacked? Maybe, but Unit Zero's Commander didn't mind. He knew, given his parentage, it was a wonder he had any decency at all. X, for his part, let Alia in and did his best to keep her floating when necessary. It was an imbalanced triangle, but it seemed to work – right up until someone ripped one of the corners off. Now Zero was left with – well, he wasn't quite sure what their current support structure was – but it was painfully evident that nodding and smiling was no longer going to be sufficient.

"You know, most people would be thrilled with that kind of score in this simulation."

Zero spun around and beheld Signas leaning in the open door frame, looking directly at him. He couldn't say how long he'd been standing there, and that unnerved him, though he didn't let it show. "You know I can do better."

Signas nodded, wearing a practiced neutral expression. "I know. But what you consider sub-par, most consider amazing. And maybe you're looking at it wrong. It might just be a good thing that you're off your game because of X's death."

Zero deactivated his saber's and internal weapon systems' practice protocols, restoring them to their full lethality. "How do you figure?" He was unable to keep the sharpness from his tone, though it was suitably muffled.

The corner of Signas' mouth quirked up. "Maybe you have more light in your soul than you like to think."

After a moment, Zero's expression mirrored the Grand Commander's. "Maybe. But this was one hell of a way to get to find it. Did you get the lockbox and key? I left them by your door."

"Yeah," his expression flickered, and for a moment, he looked supremely uncomfortable. "I got it. Thanks."_ Touche, Zero. Consider the subject changed. _His face grew serious. "So, how did it go? I heard you and Alia had what was described to me as a 'tense moment.'"

Zero scowled. "That's a bit of an overstatement. Who have you been talking to?"

"I got a message from Quinn to let me know the quarters were clear after you, Onyx, Aaron and he got done moving the furniture into storage. He just said you and Alia finished up around five, after you took a break because Alia needed to spend a few minutes out of the room. He said she didn't look too good. Closest thing to crying he's seen from her since Friday."

Zero frowned. "I see. Well, she did cry a little earlier, if that's what you want to know. But honestly, I don't think she's any better off, not for real. She blamed her outbreak on our little surprise."

"Surprise?" Signas raised an eyebrow. "What did you find?"

Zero leaned against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest. "Alia started going through his bedroom while I was in the bathroom looking through the cabinets. She went to check under his bed and got a good look at his sheets. They were covered in dried blood."

Signas visibly flinched. "Covered?" Zero nodded._ Damn. That couldn't have been good for her. _"Hell. What from?"

"Apparently he patched up a few superficial wounds from earlier in the week himself. I'm guessing they bled through whatever he covered them with. It's weird though. I saw his back yesterday, when I ... when we were all in the infirmary. I didn't see anything that looked like it would bleed that much. Like I said, must have been some skin-level stuff that just made a mess before it healed over. Must have severed a vein or something like that – easy for the nanobots to fix, but nice and nasty. The bed wasn't made. Looked like he was about to change the sheets. I had her wait outside while I cleaned up the bed, then she came back in helped me with the rest of it. Oh – and there was the happy birthday wrapping paper she found under the bed."

Signas groaned. "Wonderful."

"You feel bad? I left her in there with it 'cause I wanted to claim the bathroom, and all the less emotionally-wrenching toiletries therein." While he was talking, he moved towards Signas, and leaned against the wall next to him. He grimaced. "I should have let her have the bathroom."

Signas smirked. "You actually think she would have just waited in there while you hid all the potentially disturbing items you came across?"

"Point. She wouldn't have liked that at all, would she?"

"I doubt it. Remember, she was the one who wanted to do it yesterday."

"Yesterday? What do you mean yesterday? Today's Saturday, right?"

Signas shook his head. "Check your chronometer."

With a thought, Zero brought his internal clock up on his HUD. It revealed the current time to be 0211 on Sunday, December third. He had been in the simulator room since five o'clock the previous evening. Almost ten hours, without even realizing it. "Aw, damn it."

Signas chuckled. "Welcome to Sunday, Zero."

Zero shrugged. "At least I don't feel exhausted. Then again, I've never been one for gratuitous sleep. I was trying to lose myself in the simulations. I thought it might make a good stress reliever."

The Grand Commander nodded. "Did it work?"

Zero crossed his arms. "Not really. It just made me realize I'm still off my game." He paused abruptly, and turned to look at Signas, obviously preparing to change the subject. "But what about you? You're up awfully late. Do we have a problem?" He blinked, and shook his head. "Excuse me ... do we have _another_ problem?"

Signas ran a hand through his dark hair, and Zero realized for the first time he wasn't wearing his omnipresent cap. "Not really. I haven't been able to sleep either. Too much on my mind. I got word from Douglas that he's ready to go with the explosives. He's rigged up some bombs that contain five-hundred pounds of thermite gelatin ... each."

Zero balked. "You're kidding me. Two-hundred and fifty pounds of thermite is enough to incinerate a heavily armored assault tank. The guys in the air calvary unit love the stuff."

"Douglas said he wanted to make sure everything was completely atomized." Signas shrugged. "That, and I think he's in the mood for some fireworks. Everything's being set up at the demolition yard in Paris. We're using the equipment teleporter to move the armor storage tubes as we speak. We'll be ready to go at 0900."

"That's gonna be one hell of an explosion." He frowned. "Equipment teleporter? Won't that show up on the transportation hub logs? I'd hate to tip off UNHOC any sooner than necessary that we're moving against them. You know they expect us to hand over the armors as well, whether they wrote it out or not. They're gonna have a fit."

Signas lowered his voice, in spite of the fact the room was harmonically sealed. "Alia's said she'll have no problem wiping the transaction. She's going to make it look like we're moving a bunch of scrap out from storage."

Zero chuckled. At least Alia was still able to function, shaky mental state notwithstanding. "And you have no problem with the potential illegality of that?"

"I find my respect for the technicalities of law has been somewhat reduced, as of late," Signas replied shortly. "I take it you don't have a problem with that?"

Zero shrugged and came up with a very sardonic grin. "Problem with what, Commander?"

"That's what I thought. The UN can whine about their destruction when it figures out they're gone. But they won't bug us for a good while. As for why I'm here ..." Signas reached for his hips, and Zero noticed the rather large, nickel plated pistols holstered there. He recognized them as tri-mode Colt .50 calibers. Signas pulled them both. "Surely you've been wondering when I get in my required target practice."

Zero whistled. "I see. Now I know why your holsters are designed to retract into your thighs. Those would get a lot of attention. I doubt you could get much done with everyone wanting to fondle your guns." He blinked. "Oh, hell. I can't believe I just said that."

Signas looked at him and grinned. "Any other time ... and that might have sounded bizarre. As it is, I'll forgo filing sexual harassment charges and ask if you're sure you can't manage some sleep?"

"Zero shrugged. "I doubt it."

"Well then," Signas moved his thumbs around on the stocks and snapped either pistol's mode dial into a position labeled in excessively tiny writing: "single." "Care for a little competitive target practice?"

Zero smiled and reactivated the non-lethal protocols in his buster circuitry. "Sounds like fun. Let's do it."

  


Paris. Alia had always thought it felt so empty. Even in an overstuffed junkyard like the one they were in now, there was an undeniable feeling of being surrounded by nothing but waste and decay. Paris (and most of France) hadn't been habitable by humans since the Third Uprising. One of Sigma's task forces had seen to detonating the world's first (and only) functional cobalt cluster bomb. Those who hadn't died in the explosion were besieged by fallout the likes of which no one was equipped to handle. Hundreds of thousands died, and millions became unalterably sick. The new Chernobyl; that's what Sigma had called it, right to then Acting Grand Commander Mega Man X's face. And that was horribly true – she'd seen the images from the history files. The spotter wondered, for an instant, what it must have been like for X to beam into that disaster, to have seen it with his own eyes. He, along with a veritable army of other reploids resistant to high-radiation, had been assembled by the UN and sent in to help manage the survivors. She remembered the way he always shuddered when forced to talk about the experience, and did her best to mentally shift focus.

Alia's eyes rose to the sky – forever gray in a post-nuclear haze. Her supersensitive optics found the dozens of air scrubber drones that continually crisscrossed the sky, doing their best to neutralize ambient radioactive particles still in the atmosphere. Even with them in action all of the time, it would still be decades before Paris was suitable for any kind of human habitation again. She and her kind could only withstand the high radiation levels for so long. They would all need to spend a good deal of time in decontamination tanks when they were done. But that's why there was a demolition yard here – the land simply wasn't good for much else anymore. Off in the distance, she made out the twisted, rusting, drooping remains of the Eiffel Tower. She whistled. "I can't believe they used to call this place the City of Lights."

Zero stood next to her. "That's what it used to be. It was beautiful. Paris was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I ... I wished I could have brought Iris here, when it was whole. I think that's why they chose it. It was a symbol of human accomplishment and the longevity of human civilization. The Mavericks wanted to take that away from them ... and they did."

Alia nodded, saying nothing. After a few moments, Douglas' voice flooded their com units. "Alright. I've set everything up a mile north of us. I'll be detonating in five minutes. Oh ... and just a note ... getting any closer would be a bad idea."

"Acknowledged," Signas' voice was quiet and subdued as he walked up to stand next to Zero. "We'll be ready." He looked pointedly at Alia. "Are you sure you want to watch this?"

She seemed to actually consider it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure." _I think this is something I need to see._

"I can't believe we're doing this," Zero mumbled. "It seems so surreal. We're just going to stand here and watch thermite vaporize all that armor. Somehow it seems wrong. I hate to say it, but it feels like we're destroying part of him."

"Aren't we?" Alia's voice held an eerily calm quality. "He wouldn't have liked to hear it, but all those armor sets ... they were a part of him. Doctor Light meant for it to be that way. That's why they were all keyed to take instruction only from someone with X's neural patterns. They were his protection. But X is right. Now that he's gone, there's no reason for them to exist anymore."

"Point," Signas said. "Here we go. Two minutes. So," he prepared to ask the question on all of their minds. "what happens next? We still can't tell anybody anything. I don't think UNHOC is in any hurry to authorize anything, anyway. It seems as though they don't really care they've left us hanging off a cliff."

"Imagine that," Zero growled.

"I doubt that's the case." Alia folded her arms and fixed her eyes on the demolition area. A green beam of energy shot up – Douglas was getting out. It wouldn't be long now. "They're probably having trouble coming up with a suitable lie. As for what we should do," she frowned, "you said yourself we'd be releasing details for the memorial service soon. I think we can get by with that without UNHOC rattling its saber too much." Signas and Zero grunted in agreement.

Douglas rematerialized next to Alia. "Everybody ready?" Again, affirmative nods. "Here we go."

With that, a golden-red fireball spewed forth into the ruined sky, taking with it X's armors; the last known functional creations of Doctor Thomas Xavier Light.

  


At about the same time X's armors were consumed by activated thermite gel, the remaining elites of Unit Seventeen were gathered in their common room, conducting their own grim task. In the corner of the room, next to a large plaque commemorating all the members of Unit Seventeen who had perished in action, stood a six-foot-two plexiglass display case. It was opened for the moment; the Seventeenth's Commander hovering in front of it.

Inside hung a pair of black slacks with matching coat, a midnight blue dress shirt with three silver pips pinned to either side of the collar, and black tie. A small black beret and matching leather gloves sat perched on a small shelf near the top – a Hunter dress uniform. More specifically, as the name tag on the left breast suggested, the uniform of the greatest Maverick Hunter in history. A fabric patch stitched with the symbol of the Hunters and the number seventeen was sewn to the coat's right shoulder. _It shouldn't really seem this grim_, Quinn reflected, pinning a Cross of Gallantry underneath a humongous cluster of operation ribbons, _this was our idea. Alia even encouraged it, as long as we did all of this when she wasn't around to watch._ Before he took his hands away, he readjusted the tie (which was proving quite stubborn) and the small silver lettering pins tacked to the collar. They caught the light, and the letters "UN MHC" glittered as if glowing under their own power. Beth wordlessly dug in the small wooden box Alia had found all of X's medals in and pulled out a cluster of purple hearts.

"No wonder he hated wearing this thing," Onyx grumbled. "It's got more medals on it than it has fabric. Knowing him, he would have felt too damned conspicuous."

"Yeah," Beth mumbled, voice full of awe. "The way he hated drawing attention for his accomplishments, he must have hated parading around in this thing ... whoa ..." She pulled out a small blue square with a medical double-helix lightly etched onto its surface. "He was a certified field medic?"

"That he was," Onyx answered. "You sound like you've never seen half this stuff before. I realize you've somehow managed to skip out on all those monkey-suit functions we're supposed to attend, but haven't you read his file?"

She shook her head. "No. He never seemed to be particularly fond of talking about his decorations. I assumed it was something he didn't want to make a big deal out of, so I made a point never to pry."

"I see." Onyx sounded impressed. "As for your question, X was an emergency medic. Not as much training as a nurse, but enough to be helpful when the triage teams are in a crunch."

"Crap. I'm running out of room." Quinn stepped back and looked at the uniform, trying to remember where a medic's badge was supposed to go. It was already covered in twenty-six years worth of operation ribbons, a Silver Cross of Gallantry with Clusters, too many Purple Hearts, five Silver Stars, the Medal of Honor, the Legion of Honor, and a badge certifying mastery of stealth skills. She too was granted the honor. _Not to mention I'm getting a little creeped out. You can only handle a dead man's things for so long before it starts to feel a little strange, I guess. Of course, we wouldn't be needing to pin all this together if he hadn't just had it cleaned, but that's really beside the point. _"What's still in the box?"

Beth's hand disappeared and came up with a pair of small squares, each solid gold with three raised dots. "Just this," she said quietly, "Grand Commander's dress badges."

Aaron blinked. "But he is not ... er ... wasn't a Grand Commander when he died. Do we put them on or not? I hate to sound trite, but my uniform's so much simpler to put together, it's scary."

"It's all right. Just don't stare at it too long. You'll end up nursing an inferiority complex." Mark had appeared behind the four of them, far too quietly for anyone not specializing in stealth operations, and was watching them intently. "They're not rank insignia anymore – they serve as badges of former office. If you want you can put one under his name tag. It's optional, though, that's why we hardly ever saw them. Demotion from the top isn't that common, especially when its requested by the demotee. What ... stop looking at me like that. Am I the only one that read that part of the _Hunter Regulation Guide_?"

"Yes," the three of them answered in unison.

"Alright," Quinn said, thin smile evaporating. "That's the end of that." He closed the door on the plexiglass tube and stood back.

"Not quite," Beth said.

"What?"

Beth nodded at the wall plaque. "Someone needs to add his name. It's supposed to be the Unit Commander's responsibility."

Quinn groaned. The fact that someone needed to add X's name to the memorial plaque had completely slipped his mind. "Where is the stencil torch?"

"It was in X's utility closet. Alia gave it to me yesterday. Said she wanted me to pass it on to you. She seemed so tired." Beth sighed. "Come on. I'll give you a hand."

  


_Fire._ Alia laid with her eyes closed on a bed in her decontamination pod, head resting on her hands. She listened to the soft pulsing of the radiation neutralizers as they did their work. _Douglas wasn't kidding. Nothing but fine ash_._ I can't believe he asked us to do that to his _body. She shook her head._ No, that's not right. His body's just like his armor was after the wiping program executed. Inert. So much scrap and spare parts. _She rolled onto her side to look at the time readout on the wall. _Still forty minutes of decontamination sweeps left. Great._

_But it doesn't really matter what he wanted, or what I'm prepared to do. UNHOC's getting ready to slice him up. I wonder, are that many people actual soulless bastards, or do they simply, honestly not consider us anything more than especially useful toasters? Slaves to be used and disposed of as they see fit? What kind of existence is that?_ For that one instant, she knew the truth, and she wanted out. Not just out of the Hunters, but out of everything – the entire, flawed, sick cycle of reploid existence. It took her a full thirty seconds to realize she was contemplating the deliberate end of her life, and even then, she couldn't bring herself to be completely disgusted with the idea.


	7. Feigned Normalicy

A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) Thanks to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. All feedback is appreciated. :) Enjoy.

  


"Alright, nothing new on Grid Twelve, let's see ... what's next on my schedule? Antarctic recon photos." Audrey Silver quickly typed a series of commands into her console, eager, for once, to lose herself in her work. She was even pleased that it was Monday – amazing how much one's view of the world could change in two days.

But the arrival of Monday meant the weekend was over, and as much as she was loathe to admit it, she was glad to have an excuse to get out of the house and immerse her mind in something besides her daughter's mental state._ Ha. That's rich. You just reminded yourself of it again, didn't you? _She paused in her typing and leaned forward with her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers in front of her face. It didn't matter what Daniel said, it was still her fault, really. She had seen no problem in allowing X into their home as a friend, trusting him with her child's safety, or (and here was the really _stupid_ part, she knew) allowing her daughter to become emotionally attached to a professional killer. It wasn't that she chose to ignore the fact that he was dangerous. No, it was impossible to know anything about Commander X and not know that he was one of the most dangerous men alive.

When he wanted to be.

_That was it_, she decided, _that's what made me trust him._ There was a reason people gave X nicknames like the The Blue Bomber, or in the case of his more eclectic fans, the Avenging Angel. He was a force of good certainly, but to stand against him in battle meant facing a man who desired nothing more than absolute victory, no matter what it took. For the most part, emotion took a back seat to calculating logic, and one was left facing a frightening embodiment of determination and justice. The X that sat with her daughter watching Disney movies and playing with dolls for hours was the same man, and that's where the paradox came in. _How could someone be so jovial and sweet in one environment, and so positively terrifyingly deadly in another? And more to the point, which side of personality is more authentic?_

She smiled thinly. That was an easy question to answer. They were both the same, one simply a more complete version of the same whole. X's field persona, from what little she had seen of it, was in essence a stripped down, utilitarian version of himself. X's whole personality was too kind, far too friendly and forgiving to be anything but a hindrance on the battlefield. So it made sense he learned to suppress those elements of himself when necessary. That left a core of determination, logic, and a devotion to justice that few could match. He had made it a point that Angie not see that darker part of his psyche, she had only experienced the smiling, sweet young man, never the unyielding soldier. Beyond that, she figured it was something he did on purpose to keep himself sane, to keep himself from being completely lost in his work.

_But I wonder ... did you realize you were going to die, or was it so sudden you didn't have time to think about it? Somehow, I can't imagine that. I don't see how anyone could have ever really gotten the jump on you. And if you did know, were you afraid? Did you let yourself feel any emotion, or did you die in that hardened shell of yours? Either way, it's just not fair, is it? Whatever Maverick scum that managed to take you down, X, I hope you sent them to Hell on the way out. Whatever monster could kill you doesn't deserve to live._

Someone knocked on her office door. "Come in."

A few moments later, Alia was standing in her door frame. "Hi. Do you have a minute? There's something I need to talk to you about." She looked uncomfortable.

Audrey quickly abandoned her current task. "Of course. Sit down, please." As the reploid moved, the analyst quickly absorbed the details of her appearance, and had to admit she didn't really like what she saw. She was expecting Alia to be taking X's death hard, but that hadn't quite prepared her for the change in her friend's appearance. She hadn't realized reploids were designed with the ability to look so exhausted. Alia's hair seemed to hang limply over her face, lacking any bounce, and was more than a little frazzled. It was obvious she had not put the normal amount of time in preparing it. Somehow her deep blue eyes, in spite of the fact that they were simply highly-sensitive photoelectric scanning nodes, betrayed fatigue and a slightly lost look Audrey chose not to concentrate on. There were times, she decided, when a reploid's eyes could express just as much honest emotion as a human's – simulation never came into the equation.

Alia shifted in her chair and seemed to look more uncomfortable than before. At last she ventured, "I'm not trying to pry at all, but I wanted to check ... I was wondering ... how's Angie doing? I know X was supposed to watch her for you on Friday. She must know by now."

Audrey smiled, just a little. She couldn't help but think it was nice of Alia to take time to check on her daughter, when she obviously had enough problems of her own. "Its nice of you to ask, dear. I ... I think she'll be fine. We had it rough on Friday, though. She was watching television when those bastards broke in with their leaked video. She didn't understand. None of them had the decency to say anything about him being dead; just that he'd been deactivated or – and this is the closest they got – destroyed. She didn't understand why they couldn't fix him at first. It's funny, I guess. She was young enough to think of him as a living person, you know, just like a human ... but she knew he was an android," she paused, looking a little uncomfortable with her choice of words, "a machine. She knows that most of the time, when machines break, they can be fixed. No offense intended, of course. She's too little to understand that all of you are ... more complicated than that. Once she figured out he wasn't coming back, she was horrified. It didn't help, you know, that in school they teach them X and Zero fought off entire Uprisings themselves. They're taught to think of them as unstoppable. Innocent illusions aren't meant to be shattered like that." She looked at Alia. She hadn't meant to say that much.

"No," Alia said sadly, "they aren't." A thought seemed to occur to her. "She's just sad then? Not ... afraid?"

Audrey signed. "I'm not sure. Maybe a little. I think she's still too sad to have thought about it enough to be really worried. Like I said, in school they're taught about X and Zero, what they did during the First Uprising, and how important they continue to be. Nothing too detailed, given their age, but enough. I think she wonders, you know, what could hurt him like that. What kind of evil thing can kill a superhero? I think that's her biggest question, and for the life of me, I have no idea how to answer it. But is she going around terrified? Thankfully, no."

Alia nodded, getting the hint. Audrey was just like everyone else, she knew. She wanted answers. "You know I can't tell you what happened. Those bastards classified everything." She spat the second sentence with enough venom to make Audrey flinch.

"Alia, I –"

"But, tell Angie there's nothing to be scared of. Tell her ... tell her X took care of it, and the thing that killed him won't hurt anyone ever again. That's the truth – as much of it as I'm allowed to tell, anyway ... for now." Audrey nodded slowly, not sure she liked the implications of Alia's last statement. "But ... that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." The uncomfortable look returned to her face. "We ... we read the will over the weekend. That's ... what I need to talk to you about."

That caught her off guard. _What would X's will have to do with me?_ "Oh. I see. I'll admit, I'm a little confused."

Alia smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I could probably be doing a better job of explaining this. X ... was giving Angie piano lessons, right? He mentioned it in his letter."

Audrey raised an eyebrow. "Yeah ..."

"He gave us specific instructions for distributing most of his things. His keyboard synthesizer ... he asked us to see if you would like Angie to have it."

Audrey blinked a few times, not really sure if she'd heard right. She knew what Alia was talking about. X had brought it along every once in a while so she could practice on it. Some of its more eclectic features were greatly adept at entertaining six year olds, and kept her interested during some of the more difficult lessons. More often, though, she saw it when she dropped in on a social gathering in the Seventeenth's common room. X's piano prowess was of great use during the assault unit's impromptu karaoke sessions. He gladly played, in exchange for no one hassling him to attempt to sing. Her hands trembled slightly with some unidentifiable emotion. "He ... he left that ... for her?"

Alia nodded. "His specific instructions were to see if you wanted her to have it. He didn't want to force it on her, or you. He knew how much she liked it and ... uh ..." she hesitated to add the part about X's opinion of their piano's lifespan, but Audrey did it for her.

"Knew that ours is about to fall apart at the seams?"

"Well ... he didn't say that." The spotter shifted some more. _Not exactly, at any rate._

Audrey found her voice again, mentally scolding herself for seemingly making Alia more uncomfortable. "Alia, dear, I'm not trying to sound ungrateful at all. Honestly, I'm beyond touched. I'm just ... just a little surprised, I guess. I never expected that he would put Angie in his will, for anything. I hate to say it, but I'm not sure I understand why. He only knew her less than a year."

Alia shrugged. "I'm the last person qualified to guess his reasons for writing what he wrote, but from what I've seen, it never seemed to take him very long to get attached to anyone he really liked. He said in his letter that he wanted to leave each of his friends something." Alia smiled. "The three of you were some of his few human friends. You trusted him with your daughter, even though he was arguably one of the most capable killers on the planet. You knew he was more than that, and that meant more to him than you realized."

Audrey wasn't quite sure what to say, but found words coming out of her mouth anyway. "I honestly never thought about it like that. I mean, X is ... was ... just a man. All this," she waved her hand in a short gesture, indicating the whole of Hunter Headquarters, "this is just where he worked. It's not what he was."

Alia smiled, but it appeared strained. "And you wonder why he liked you. So ... about the synthesizer, you certainly don't have to decide now. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing – he said so in his letter. Take as much time as you need."

Audrey didn't say anything for a moment, then smiled reassuringly at the spotter. "I certainly don't feel uncomfortable, Alia. I don't think Angie will either. It's unexpected, but I'm proud that he thought of her so highly. Let me talk to her this afternoon, and I'll let you know."

Alia smiled, looking profoundly relieved. "Alright. I should be going. I've got some work to do in Command. See you around, Audrey."

  


"It's too damned weird."

Beth stirred, lifting her head off Quinn's shoulder. "What?" The two of them had been sitting alone in the Seventeenth's common room for well over an hour, looking at wedding planning publications and listening to the news. "You would look great in a tuxedo. We can get a coat long enough to cover up your tail."

Quinn chuckled. "No, it's not that. I like this one. It looks like something James Bond would wear."

Beth's lips quirked. "I'm not sure attempting to model your appearance after a 150 year old fictitious, promiscuous sex symbol is the best thing to be doing when we're attempting to plan a wedding."

Quinn stuck his tongue out. "Hey ... you like it too. That's not what's bothering me. I just had a thought." A decidedly dark look settled over his face.

"Well, you look like you just sat in something. I'm assuming this isn't about the clothes?"

He shook his head. "No. Where's Sigma?"

"Well, that certainly doesn't have _anything_ to do with the wedding, unless somebody insane got a hold of the guest list. What do you mean, where's Sigma?"

"It's too odd. He would have known for sure X was dead just as soon as it went out on the wire. It's Monday ... and not a single Maverick incident. Hell, not even any reports of the normal petty vandalism for the last few days. He's up to something."

"Obviously. Intelligence hasn't heard anything?"

"If the reports I'm getting are right, not a thing. It's almost like Sigma's put out the word to the Maverick community ... even the thugs that aren't necessarily under his direct command are running in stealth mode. Like he put out the word for everybody ... and I mean _everybody_ ... to shut up and lay low. But it doesn't feel like he has anything planned. It seems like he's just ... waiting. It's bugging the crap out of me. What's he waiting on?"

Beth frowned. "He should know he's got a big opportunity here. He's not going to screw it up if he can help it. And that means he's not going move until he's ready ... until he understands the playing field again."

The animaloid looked down at the younger reploid. "Wait ... you mean, you think this caught him off guard too? But that can't be possible – unless he and his scum had nothing to do with it. But how could that work?"

Beth closed the book and put it on a coffee table. "I don't know. It just ... it was so abrupt. X was _shopping_, for God's sake. I just don't buy the fact that Sigma just happened to have something waiting in New York that X couldn't handle. And that whole not being able to send help thing ... there's something _way_ wrong with that. You know how hard it is to make an area unsuitable for beam-in. No ... whatever happened, there's no way I think the bald bastard had a hand in any of it. It seemed too random. Sigma's nothing if not a good planner. Granted his plans usually fall through in the end, but they're very well defined. This whole mess just doesn't feel like him. Does that make any sense?"

"Too much. It brings us back to the obvious question. What the hell happened, and why is the whole thing Level Alpha classified? What are they hiding from us?"

"I don't know Quinn. But honestly, lately, when I look at Alia's eyes, I'm not entirely sure I want to find out what happened. She and Zero ... they both look so haunted. But she looks _alone_."

Quinn leaned back in his seat. "You know what it is, don't you? She realizes ... well, I'm not sure if she'd admitted to herself yet ... but part of her knows she'll never have any closure when it comes to her relationship with X."

Beth sighed. "It's so unfair. How much longer do you think it would have taken for them ... you know ... to start seeing each other? It seemed like it was so close."

A frown accompanied his answer. "Closer than you might think. I overheard him on the phone the other day checking on prices for two tickets to ... something. Not sure what."

Beth paled slightly. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. He was just about to – this whole damn thing is just – _shit_. I guess it makes sense, though, in some bizarre, twisted way."

"What do you mean?"

"He was the best. He defied the odds for two decades, and had no trouble making the impossible seem possible on a daily basis. Everything has to crash down eventually. And the way X was, all the things he was capable of, all the things he did ... when he hit the wall, he had to hit it hard, I guess."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Quinn asked after a little bit of silence. "The way one person's death has completely screwed everything up. We've lost people before, but it's never felt like this."

Beth nodded again. "True, but how often have we lost a legend?"

"That's the whole problem, isn't it? Through no fault of his own, he became a symbol. Symbols just aren't supposed to up and die."

Beth was silent for a moment, then she spoke, having thought up another question. "How much longer do you think it'll go on? The Wars ... all of this? When's it going to stop? I always sort of figured X would be around until the end ... until we didn't need him anymore. Now he's gone, and I don't know what'll happen. ... It's all changed, now."

"It hasn't all changed, honey. We're still here. Sigma's still out there. X is gone, but the Mavericks remain. That means, for the moment, so do we. But until the Bald Baron shows up, we're stuck waiting. Now," he picked up another magazine, "how about we discuss something else ... like the food for our human guests?"

After a moment, Beth drew herself up and said, in an entirely artificial and high voice, "Let them eat cake."

Quinn hit her with a nearby pillow.

  


A few hours later, Quinn stepped into Training Room Three. Oddly, all the lights in the room were dead. The door shut behind him, sealing him within the darkness. _Oh, this is _real_ comfortable._ "Zero, where the hell are you?" He didn't wait for an answer; instead activating his infrared. Zero was leaning against the wall, watching him.

"Hi." His face was troubled. Not sadness, not dread – no, Quinn decided, more than anything else, he just looked extremely ticked off.

"Uh ... Zero ... is there a reason you sent me an e-mail asking me to meet you here without telling anyone, or is this just your latest attempt to scare the hell out of me?"

Zero smiled thinly. "Sorry ... I needed to make sure Alia didn't get wind of this."

"Oh? What's the problem?"

"You mean, aside from the fact that the universe is continually rubbing X's death in my face? Tomorrow's Tuesday."

Quinn didn't get it. "Tuesday?"

Zero chuckled – a tired, mirthless sound. "Damn, man. You're more frayed than me. What's been on our social calendar for the past three weeks? Give you a hint – this latest little kick in the pants brought to you by the number eight."

Something clicked._ Alia's birthday. Surprise party. Surprise party X was supposed to be planning. _"Oh, _damn_ it. I completely forgot. Someone up there is really enjoying jerking us around, aren't they?"

"Up there? I disagree. Seems like we're dealing with a rather subterranean force, if you get my drift. But back to the matter at hand. We need to decide what we're going to do. I'm not sure if we should call it off or not."

"Zero," Quinn went through the motion of cracking his knuckles, though the nature of his unchanging, perfectly tuned body kept them from making any sound, "is it even still a surprise anymore? I heard her telling Beth about some of the stuff she found in X's database. Wouldn't she have found something there? I know she's not at her best, but she's still Alia. She's still one of the most thorough people I know."

"Right. I went through X's database over the weekend. I took out all references to Alia's birthday. Digitized receipt records from a couple of party stores, the cake company – yes, there's a cake waiting to be picked up, along with a ton of balloons, and a margarita machine he rented, among other things. He didn't tell you about any of this?"

Quinn shrugged. "Not a thing. All we knew was that he was taking care of the plans. He probably would have clued us in more, but Onyx bet him he couldn't pull it off without help. Said he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret that long. You can imagine where that got us." Zero actually sounded amused when he chuckled. Quinn was thankful for that. "Wait a minute. Margarita machine? X doesn't drink."

Zero gestured aimlessly with one of his hands. "I know. Knowing him, he probably had them rig it to dispense iced fruit punch or something. Did I mention the gallons of peanut butter cup ice-cream I found in his freezer? Alia loves peanut butter cups. He can't ... er ... couldn't stand the things."

The animaloid scowled mightily. "Oh yeah ... we're on a _short_ leash."

"Here's the deal. We can still pick everything up, and the time he had planned to start things still works. The question is, should we go through with it? I honestly don't know, Quinn. I don't know if it'll just make her worse, or if she might actually enjoy it. I'd like to think I'm pretty good at keeping myself sane, but I have no business trying to keep other people from snapping."

"Then why should you?"

Zero raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What's the big plan here, Zero? Forget the fact that for whatever reason, you still can't tell us what's going on. That's not important right now. How we got here is important, and one day I hope to understand how this happened, but for right now, it's not the critical thing. The critical thing is, how do we get moving again? Are we going to just stand around and hope it all goes away? 'Cause, you and I both know that's not going to get us anywhere. The party is just the beginning of it. X's life didn't come to a natural end. He wasn't done yet. I guarantee you we'll run into a few more loose ends before this is over. How we deal with them is going to define how hard this is for us.

"Alia's birthday is tomorrow, and we have a party planned. Now, it might not be the most jubilant experience, but we can either attempt it and hope for some degree of normalcy, or we can do nothing. I'd like to think X would like it if we went for the former. I know I would."

Zero smirked. "Very nicely put, Commander. We go then?"

Quinn's lips quirked up. "Let's shall."

"Alright. Spread the word. I'll be sending you a list of things I need you to pick up."

"Sure thing."

  


_Tuesday, the fifth of December._

_0500 hours._

_My birthday._

_Yay._

Those decidedly unenthusiastic thoughts were the first that filled Alia's head when she opened her eyes on Tuesday morning. Her groggy gaze swept over the far wall of her bedroom, catching the three bookshelves worth of collectible stuffed bears – nearly a hundred of them. There were fat ones, tall ones, big ones, small ones. As usual, they all seemed to be smiling at her. That's why she'd put them there, so a flock of friendly, furry faces would be the first thing she saw whenever she woke up.

She frowned and sat up, stumbling out of bed with far less grace than any healthy member of her species should have shown. She wasn't in the mood for happy, smiling faces. Straightening up, she ran a hand through her hair, wondering for an instant why synthetic follicles were designed to fuzz and go completely out of control overnight. There was realistic design, then there was just Doctor Light getting carried away. She stood and tugged the wrinkles out of the giant white t-shirt she was wearing, more out of habit than anything else. She knew it didn't matter what the shirt looked like – it wasn't like she would be wearing it much longer.

With that thought in mind, the newly eight year old Lieutenant Commander closed on her bathroom door, shedding her bedclothes as she went. Normally, she would have dumped them in the bin in her closet, but tidiness was the last thing on her mind.

A few minutes later, with her shower spigot putting out water hot enough to burn human skin (the most soothing kind, in her opinion), she stepped into the tile enclosure; steam enveloping her form. She felt her body relax as she found the shampoo bottle. Most humans wouldn't have believed the servo motors and micro-hydraulic systems that gave reploids could entertain a state of of undesired tension. It wasn't muscle stiffness – that was something they_ didn't_ have to deal with – it was just a tight, uncomfortable feeling that had more to do with the way she held her body when she was stressed than anything else. Either way, she smiled thinly as the scalding water pelted her back – she could feel the knot between her shoulder blades wither and die from its onslaught.

Briefly, as she fumbled for the rinse-out conditioner, she wondered what the day would be like. She couldn't think anything too unexpected would happen, given the current atmosphere. _Probably nothing big; a few well-wishers here and there. That's fine, really. I don't feel much like celebrating._ Her mind was on the subject, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking, _I wonder what's in that box, though. What did he find that had to be bought on another continent._ The fact that he put a lot of thought into ... whatever it was ... wasn't lost on her, nor were the implicit implications she could choose to draw. She made up her mind, then and there. The small parcel was still on her night table, where it had been since Friday. She was going to open it as soon as she got dressed. _That's what I really want to do, isn't it? Otherwise, I would have thrown it away. And there's no way I'm doing that._

"_Ouch_! Damn it, that burns!" She began rubbing furiously at her eye – she had gotten distracted by her thoughts and rubbed some of the conditioner across her face. "What do they put in this stuff?" After another few minutes of rinsing, she reached for the soap.

  


Fifteen minutes later, Alia sat still on her bed, in her usual light-duty armor. A conspicuously yellow bandanna was wrapped around her neck, tied off in a careful knot. Her hair was fixed in it's usual style (for whatever reason, she'd actually deemed its preparation worthy of her time – perhaps it had something to do with her birthday; she wasn't sure). It shined silkily under the artificial lighting pods in her ceiling, still damp. Her eyes were locked on her night table, and the cubic parcel sitting on it. It was wrapped in thin brown wax paper, and tied off with thin rope. Steeling herself, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands.

The part of her brain that was nothing more than a miniature supercomputer stepped in for the initial assessment. A small readout on her HUD told her whatever it was she was holding was exactly 10.5 ounces, including the weight of the packing materials. It didn't make a hard sound when she shook it – probably wrapped in something soft. But that didn't really get her very far._ Here we go. _Steeling herself, she slipped a finger between the box and the string and tugged. The cord snapped and fell into her lap. She ignored it, instead focusing on her hands. They were shaking. "Ugh," she sounded disgusted with herself, "what's wrong with me? What am I afraid of?" _Helplessness_, a small, cold voice called from the back of her mind – her subconscious, scolding her again. She frowned. _Maybe ... but I'll be damned if I become a slave to my emotions. I need to do this. Just throwing it away because of some irrational fear, that wouldn't be right. _With that thought, she worked a finger under a seam in the brown wrapping, and tore.

The brown paper fell away easily, and she got her first good look at the box. It was blue, with a removable top like a shoebox, old and worn, but not moldy or dirty. The only writing was the silver lettering on the front: _Steiff_. She made no conscious assumptions about the contents, even though part of her already suspected what it was. Slowly – hesitantly – she sat the box in her lap and pulled the top off.

The first thing she could tell was that it – whatever it was, was smiling at her. It's little brown resin eyes were beaming up at her from the shadowy confines of its container, and the fuzzy little stubs that served as its arms were stretching up in her direction, as if asking to be picked up. Alia was glad she wasn't holding the box – she was sure she would have dropped it then and there. She couldn't help the thought that popped into her head – _Look how cute you are._ She felt moisture on her eyelids. In a smooth, slow gesture, she scooped the little bear carefully out, sitting it up in the palm of her hand, lost in its charcoal black fur. From the looks of it, it was antique Steiff, very old, but in excellent condition.With her other hand, she fished out the folded certificate of authenticity, but her eyes didn't leave the stuffed toy. It was such a happy looking little thing. All at once, she could see X picking it out from somewhere, with that pleased, eager look on his face he wore when he was looking forward to something. She had been lucky enough to see it on his face a few times, and she liked the memory. The twenty-six years of stress, worry, hardship, the faint haunted look you could sometimes see if you looked at his eyes long enough – it all melted away, and he looked so happy and sweet. All the sudden, she was filled with a horrible, unquenchable desire – she wanted to see that face again, just one more time, but she knew she never would.

Then, abrupt as the snapping of a twig, it all came loose. All the self control, all the mental blockades, everything shattered, and she began to cry as she'd never cried before.

The bear smiled on.

  


Zero woke up to the sound of his door chime. It was dark. "Computer ... lights on." _0530 ... would have been up in fifteen minutes anyway. I wonder who it is._ He swung his feet over the side of his bed and stood up, looking at himself in the full-length mirror next to his closet. _Baggy red pajama pants ... fine. Need a shirt._ He moved quickly to the closet, somehow managing to avoid every piece of stray dirty clothing on the carpet – which was considerably impressive, seeing as there was arguably more clothing than floor. He reached in and snagged a black tank top that was almost too small, and pulled it over his head, shaking out his tangled, untied hair in the process. He left the room, making a point to shut the door behind him. He didn't need to be called a pig this early in the morning.

A moment later, he was opening his door, still wondering who had found a reason to wake him up. What he found waiting on the other side couldn't have surprised him more.

Alia was standing there, holding a small box in a pair of gloved, trembling hands. Her face was damp and blotchy. When she spoke, her voice was small and tired. It couldn't be hoarse – her vocal system didn't allow for any such distortion, as an exhaustible voice was simply not useful in any way, shape or form. "Hi."

Zero didn't need X's people skills to deduce what had happened. The box in her hands was open. _Fallout._ He started to speak, but was cut off.

"I ... didn't mean to wake you." She was unable to stifle a sniffle. "I ... I needed to talk to someone, Zero. Can I come in?"

The Crimson Hunter blinked, realizing for the first time that he was just _standing there_. "Sure ... come on, come on in. Sorry. Do you want to sit down?"

"Sure," she said quietly. He stepped to the side, and she entered his living room, advancing on his couch. She swept a few motorcycle magazines out of the way and dropped onto a leather cushion. She was still holding the open box in her hand, and try as he might, Zero couldn't see inside it without making a far more obvious effort. He followed and sat on the opposite end of the couch. _Okay, Zero ... now what?_ He had been expecting this in some form or another since Friday, but he wasn't sure what to do now that it was happening. _Start simple._ "Alia, what happened? You look like you've been crying for a while." He couldn't help but think that had sounded incredibly obvious and non-helpful, but it was out, so there was little he could about it.

Alia didn't say anything at first. She wordlessly leaned towards Zero, the hand with the box outstretched. "Look inside. Be careful with it." The last sentence had come out quickly, in an unmistakably warning tone. Nevertheless, Alia continued to tremble periodically, aftershocks of her earlier sobbing fit.

Zero carefully but quickly lifted the box top off, his eyes instantly finding the little charcoal bear, taking in its little smile and its tan muzzle. It was undeniably cute – even he would admit that – and he could imagine X picking it out for precisely that reason – he loved that kind of stuff. He was also sure it had some sort of collectible value. The way X had talked about his acquisition, it was as though he'd stumbled on some rare antique. _Knowing him, that's probably exactly what this is. ... Okay. Need to speak again._ He looked at Alia. She was studying the wall; no help there. "Alia," he began again, handing the box back to her, "I hate to say it, but maybe opening it wasn't such a good idea," he said quietly. In the back of his mind, he was already considering calling off the party. Maybe it really wasn't a good idea. The remainder of his conversation with her would dictate his decision.

Alia jerked her head around to look at him, still moist eyes wide with what was apparently shock. "Are you serious?" she spat, not really offended so much as surprised, "Zero, you know I wasn't just going to throw it away. That wouldn't be right. And I'll admit," she averted her eyes again, "there was a part of me that really, really wanted to know what it was."

"And," Zero found himself asking experimentally, "did you like what you found?"

Alia's hand went to her face to wipe away a few errant tears – she didn't seem to mind being seen crying at all anymore. Either that, or she was too exhausted to care. More interesting than that, Zero noticed, she was letting it go on. "Did I like the bear? I love it, Zero. I think it's one of the cutest little things I've ever seen. It's really old too. One-hundred-and-fifty years; I checked the certificate of authenticity. He would have had to make an effort to find it. When I opened it, I was sitting there," her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on, "on my bed, and I took the top off the box, and before I pulled it out, I could see it _smiling_ at me. I couldn't help it, Zero. I imagined _him_ smiling – it just popped in my head. I could see how he would have looked standing there while I opened it, and I knew I'd never get to –" she slumped back in her seat, and dropped the box carefully in her lap. "It's not fair, Zero. It's just not _fair_." Her sentence was punctuated with a few new sobs she made no effort to hide, despite her mind's urgings to do so. _No. I'm not running from this anymore. I can't. This is how I feel. It needs to hurt me now, so it won't hurt me later. That's how it's supposed to work, right?_

"Alia –" Zero began carefully, not completely sure what he was supposed to say. It didn't matter; she cut him off, obviously not in a mood to stop talking yet. Zero couldn't know that she feared if she stopped now, she wouldn't be able to finish.

"You know why it's not fair, though? I'm sure it sounds pretty immature of me to word it like that, but it's the truth. And I did it to myself. I ... I screwed up." More tiny, tired sobs. "I still don't understand how I could have been so _stupid_." Her shoulders trembled.

Zero was dumbstruck. This was so far off from what he expected, he wasn't sure what to do. The crying, shaking blond girl on his couch was ... blaming herself for X's death? He didn't get it. She knew better than that. _No ... I'm missing something here._ "Alia," he began again, still unusually quiet and careful, "what are you talking about? None of this is your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing you could have done differently to –"

"No! That's not what I meant. It's not about that damned maniac ... or how helpless he made me feel. I _hate_ feeling helpless, Zero. I hate it more than anything. But that's not it."

If anything, Zero was more confused. "What then?"

"I ... I'll just spit it out. You've probably figured out by now, hell, I was the last one to admit it ... I ... I liked X very much."

Zero suppressed the urge to say "I know," nodding slowly instead. "Go on, when you're ready."

"I can't say when I started to. It seems like one day, I just worked with him and he was my friend, and the next I was looking at him, thinking how sweet he looked when he was happy, and finding that I really enjoyed being around him when we weren't trying to keep someone or something from getting blown to atoms. But I didn't do anything about it. I was afraid. I'm not one of those girls that won't ask a guy out unless somebody's pulling a Sadie Hawkins event. But I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure how to approach him. He seemed a bit emotionally guarded. I didn't want to come on too strong.

"I convinced myself I had plenty of time to decide what to do, and when to do it, you know?" She smiled sardonically. "'After all,' I told myself, 'this is X. He's not going anywhere.' The one time I make a major assumption, it just has to come back to haunt me. I ... I just waited too long."

"Alia, I don't get it. You're so confident. X could be withdrawn sometimes, but he wasn't unapproachable. What were you afraid of? You know he'd never have shot you down. But, please,_ please_ don't think you screwed up. Sometimes," he got a far off look in his eyes, "sometimes, things just don't go right. He felt bad asking, but he knew that if he was going to be of any help, he had to understand.

"I know, Zero. I wasn't afraid of him rejecting me hard, not really. I even managed to put aside the fact that he would spend most of his time getting shot at by homicidal maniacs, and if we were together, I'd still be working here, and I'd have to put all my feelings aside. But I was afraid ... and I feel so stupid admitting this. I was afraid he would always see me as some weak little thing that needed to be protected – not even necessarily on purpose. I know it's not true, but it was so easy to get bogged down that way. Like I said, I don't like it when people think I'm helpless. That's what I was afraid of." Her shoulders quaked again. "I squandered any opportunity I might have had, Zero. I _wasted_ it, because I was afraid, and because I was ashamed."

Zero found himself scooting towards her. He didn't understand what she meant by "ashamed," but didn't press it. Damning the implications (as far as he was concerned, there were none), he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It sagged under his palm. "Alia, it's perfectly normal to be nervous and apprehensive about impending relationships. When you're not sure if you might love somebody or not, it's hard to understand what you're supposed to do."

Alia looked up. "'Might love somebody?' Do you think I'm in love with a dead man?"

Zero flinched. "I ... I don't know."

She chuckled darkly – a completely mirthless sound. "And that's the horrible part, Zero. I don't know either. I can't say I wasn't, and I can't say I am. It's somewhere in between. A big, glaring maybe. And damn it," her voice lowered, "that's all it'll ever be."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Zero said suddenly, not really having anything else constructive at his disposal.

"Don't I? Did he ever tell you how we met?"

Zero shook his head, surprised that X actually hadn't mentioned it. _Ever_.

"Care to hear a pathetic little story?" Her voice was downright bitter. Zero frowned.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Remember, eight months before the Fifth Uprising, when that mercenary strike force managed to breach our security and tried to blow the command center to hell? I remember there were fifty of them, and they caught us off guard. That was my first day here. That's the day I met X ..."

  


Alia knew she had to move. The little voice in her brain that amounted to android instinct told her as much: if she stayed where she was, she would die. She locked eyes with the crazed, black armored maniac pointing the automatic rifle at her, and _rolled_. The trainee badge rattled on the chain around her neck as she pulled herself hastily behind the ruined hulk of a computer console, and she was aware of a stinging sensation on the side of her neck. She brushed a gloved hand against the spot – it came away dark reddish black. She understood what had happened without really thinking about it. There had been a series of loud bangs over the past few seconds, then a stinging sensation as something whizzed by her ear. It was an almost unconscious realization. _I've been shot._ It was the first time (and hopefully the last), but she didn't have time to think about it.

But her wound – the most minor of grazing injuries – was the least of her concerns. She glanced at the lightly-armored human laying next to her, a boy no older than twenty with a horrible, gaping hole in his chest. One of his arms was missing below the elbow, and he didn't seem to know where he was. Her fully trained escort with the Hunter Spotter Corps. She could hear the five Mavericks taunting them now. They weren't firing, even though they were in a perfect position to vaporize the two of them. _And why should they_, she thought, her mind remarkably free of fear (though shock was slowly setting in), _they've got us trapped. They can do whatever they want._ She found herself mentally going over the events of the last two minutes as she picked up the boy's broken, useless sidearm with shaking hands.

Everything was going so well. All her belongings were sent in advance to her new quarters with the Seventeenth Unit. She had just gotten out of Non-Field Hunter Orientation (_All six solid hours of it._) and finished up with the Hunter Registrar Office. Now she was supposed to be on a quick tour of the gargantuan Hunter Command compound. The two of them (his name was Nick, she suddenly remembered), had gotten so far as the Transportation Hub when it happened – a series of quick explosions, screaming in the distance, sirens – then hell itself seemed to burst into the room.

Yet it was not Lucifer who charged into Equipment Teleporter Room One, only five Maverick reploids. They were of various builds, all humanoid, all with the same heavy black armor. Two were armed with busters; two carried heavy duty assault rifles of a make and model she didn't recognize, and the fifth seemed to be wielding some sort of energized club. But that was all she had time to deduce in the split second before they started firing.

The next thing she knew, there was a bright red glob of something (_plasma_, a distant part of her mind reminded her) zooming off to her left, then a man's voice screaming next to her. She looked over and saw the small human form of her tour guide, bloody and short one limb. In typical Maverick fashion, they had turned their weapons on the only human in the area before doing anything else. He had been standing behind a teleporter control console, which was fortunate, in a grisly sort of way. It absorbed the brunt of the blast, and probably kept his upper torso from vaporizing. At that moment, one of the riflemen seemed to take notice of Alia, and trained his weapon on the stunned trainee. It was at some point during that long millisecond that her common sense kicked in, and she started to move.

And so, here she was, huddling behind a burned out console the size of a small car with a human who would, from all indications, be dead in a matter of minutes, listening to a quintet of murderous men taunting her. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be terrified to the point of total and complete shock, but she wasn't. Complete loss of mental control, over anything, simply wasn't in her nature. Despite that, she knew she was in trouble. Keeping her head low, she inched towards her companion. "Nick," she said quietly, urgently, "can you hear me?" All she got in response was a cross between a groan and a wheeze._ At least he's not dead. Damn. _One of the Mavericks shouted something quite lewd at her, and she felt herself shudder involuntarily. _Wonderful_, she thought sharply, _sounds like they have a pervert in their little band. Alright. I need a plan._

"Alia..." Nick had apparently found his voice, though it was thin and tinny, and sounded as though it might break any second. "How many of the bastards are there?" His head rolled over, in an apparent attempt to see their assailants but all he found was his arm. "Oh," he said quietly, "oh, damn."

"Does it hurt badly?"

"No ... plasma sealed the nerves, it looked like. Soft of a dull stinging. I think a few of my ribs cracked. I can't feel anything ... below my waist. Oh, _shit_. Bastards probably nailed my spine. But you didn't answer my question ... how many are there? I'm betting you and your reploid optics got a better look at them than I did." There was the barest note of encroaching panic in his voice.

Alia didn't need to look, and when she spoke, her voice was steady. "Five. All heavily armored and armed. What should we do?" She was slightly unsure about asking a man who was possibly in shock for orders, but he seemed lucid enough, and he was the only fully trained Hunter in the room.

The human looked disgustedly at Alia's hands, eying his ruined machine pistol. "They're between us and the only exit from this room. I'm afraid you're going to have to fight your way out and find help. They busted my damned radio, so unless somebody finds us, we're on our own. I'm guessing whatever could breach security's keeping everybody pretty busy. It's either fight or sit here and wait for them to kill us. Listen to them. They know they have us cornered." He looked at her wrists. "I notice you're not carrying anything. Please tell me you have at least one plasma cannon."

For an instant, she actually looked embarrassed. "I'm supposed to be getting one installed Tuesday. I hate to say it, but my specifications are decidedly non-combat oriented."

"_Great_." Next to him, Alia frowned. His voice was becoming increasingly wet. She didn't need any medical training to recognize the signs of serious internal bleeding.

"I can't leave you here," she said harshly, rank forgotten. "They'll kill you."

"And you can't move me either. You need to get past them, and get help. Listen ... they're getting tired of pointing and leering. See the little silver disc on my belt? Grab it." She did as she was told. "That's a sonic overload disc. It's the latest in non-lethal anti-reploid weaponry. Press the button and it'll emit a tone that'll short out all of your audio systems. It hurts like hell, from what I understand, and prologued exposure can force you into auto-stasis, but it should throw them off balance. I want you to press the button, cover your ears, and run as fast as you can. Just to save time, that's an order."

Alia was only now beginning to feel the slightest tingle of panic. She was being asked to outmaneuver and outrun several men who wanted, at best, to kill her in an extremely painful and bloody fashion. At worst – no, she wasn't going to consider the at worst. Even if she made it, she would be condemning a defenseless human to certain death. But Nick was right. She knew she wouldn't survive if she tried to fight. One well-aimed plasma shot would be enough to eat completely through her light armor, and that would be the end of it. She flipped the disc between her fingers. _But I really don't have any other choice, do I? He's right. If I stay here, we'll both die. If I move, one of us might live. And_, she thought with more than a little bit of darkness, _I'll be damned if I let myself get killed before the end of my first day. Here we go ..._

With those dark thoughts running through her mind, Alia rose to one knee, still crouching, and prepared to run. The entire exchange with Nick had taken barely more than two minutes. She could feel her hands shaking, but ignored them. She slid her finger over the disc's activation button, and started to press – the starting shot in her private, all but suicidal race. But at that moment, something unexpected happened, and the rules of the game changed.

Alia heard a small explosion and felt the ground under her shake ever so slightly. Nick muttered something next to her, apparently having lapsed into semi-unconsciousness again. She looked up in time to see the head of the Maverick with the energized club disappear into a hole in the floor that simply wasn't there a few seconds earlier. Her eyes widened slightly. The four remaining Maverick soldiers were looking at the hole dubiously, listening to the sounds of an apparent scuffle, Alia and the human forgotten. After a few more seconds, there was only silence, and then, in a flash of blue, there was _him_.

He was standing over the hole he'd just made, feet spread out on either side, arms hanging at his sides. Blackish-red circulatory fluid trickled from a cut on his temple. His blue armor was in perfect condition except for a few singes here and there, and a single, seeping crack across his left breast. The man's emerald eyes shined with an icy intensity from his nearly emotionless face, seemingly staring at everything at nothing all at once. Alia felt a chilly mixture of awe, anxiety, and wonder race through her body. _That's ... that's Commander X. That's him ..._ For an instant, their eyes locked, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of something warm and reassuring, but it was gone before she could be sure what exactly it was.

X raised his right arm, and Alia realized for the first time that there was an active, charged buster on the end of it. She wanted to duck, but found herself frozen to the spot. When he spoke, his voice was far softer and calmer than she had anticipated, but it held a confident, dangerous edge. "You don't belong here." He fired.

The Maverick nearest Alia let out a horrible scream as he was engulfed by two blue fireballs. He began to fall to the ground, almost completely limp, but even before his knees touched the floor, X was in motion. He was nothing more than a blur as he charged forward, grabbing the falling mercenary by the neck and, with little more than zero effort, throwing him into the riflemen's line of fire. For it was at that exact moment that the two reploids, trembling in fear, had leveled their weapons on him, preparing to shoot. Neither was able to stop in time, and their eyes widened in terror. The bullets flew, tearing what was left of the barely conscious Maverick to shreds. The body was mere inches away from then when one of the rounds pierced its generator. There was an explosion, and both crumpled to the ground, broken and bleeding. They never moved again.

X turned to face his fifth (and final) opponent, careful to place himself between the Maverick and the two people behind him. He let his buster, once again frothing with deadly blue plasma, hang limply at his side. The mercenary, for his part, looked certifiably terrified. His own arm cannon was pointing at X, though it wasn't charged at all, and he couldn't seem to keep it from shaking. "I would suggest you surrender," X said finally, his tone of voice no different than it had been when he arrived, "power down your weapons and drop into stasis, and I won't hurt you. But you've got to do it right now."

For an instant, it looked as though the black-armored humanoid was actually considering it. Slowly, his trembling buster began to lower, and by the time it was level with his hip, it was gone, replaced with a red-gloved hand. "I," he began, voice even higher in tone than X's, "I will ..." Suddenly, his purple eyes flashed bright red, and a demonic smile lit his face. "... kill you, Hunter!" he yelled, producing a silver cylinder from a compartment somewhere on his leg.

Alia's eyes widened. She had expected to see the Maverick kneel to the ground and enter stasis – he looked perfectly ready to surrender. But she wasn't naïve by any means; the idea of a double-cross wasn't really that surprising. No, she recognized the silver object. _That's a beam saber_. She found her mouth moving without her consent. "Look out!"

But it seemed she was too late. The Maverick, eyes still giving off that eerie, blood red glow, screamed and swung his saber high, activating it in mid-air. A blade of purple energy sprang from its output node, arcing sharply as it closed in on X's neck. For a terrifying instant, the blue armored Hunter didn't move.

Alia's eyes were riveted on the scene, waiting for the inevitable. The sword cut through the air, and then ... nothing. X's head, indeed, his entire upper body, seemed to have disappeared. She realized what had happened at the moment he sprang up from his crouch and delivered an uppercut to his opponent's jaw. There was a sickeningly wet cracking sound, a splash of something dark red, and the Maverick began to stumble backwards. Small, shiny white things (_Teeth_, she realized with a bit of a start) flew into the air, just as their owner started to tumble. But X wasn't through. His left hand closed over one of his opponent's flailing wrists, and he twisted sharply, careful to point the purple blade away from him even as his armor was showered with harmless sparks. When the silver cylinder fell from the maniac's hand, inactive, X kicked it, sending it flying across the room. His foot completed its arc, slamming into the mercenary's armored chest and sending him flying backwards.

It was then that Alia noticed the ambient noise in the room change. She realized almost instantly what it was – the high-pitched tone coming from X's buster was changing, becoming sharper – and louder. When he again leveled it on his rising opponent (who happened to be growling in blind, irrational fury), the plasma was tinged with bright purple highlights. He let the canon rest in the palm of his other hand, in obvious anticipation of the impending kickback. _Level three charge_, she thought, unable to keep from cringing. Part of her wondered why she _still_ couldn't manage to look away. She was still watching when the lone Maverick made it to his feet; still watching when X fired.

The bluish-purple ball of plasma that flew from his cannon was bigger than anything Alia had yet seen him produce. It flew into the charging Maverick – and straight through him. There was a small explosion, and a few seconds later, a pair of legs attached to a smoking wreck of a lower abdomen clattered to the floor. That was all that remained of the fifth and final soldier of Sigma.

At this point, X still had his back to Alia. His legs were spread, and he still held his buster in front of him, supporting it with his left hand. It occurred to her suddenly that every enemy unit in the room was now dead, yet she felt no less anxious. She heard him mutter something, but much to her surprise, she couldn't make it out. His arms dropped to his sides again, and he deactivated his buster as he turned around.

The person she found looking at her now was nothing like the one she had seen mere minutes before. Gone were the cold, icy irises and the expressionless face. No, the warm, reassuring green eyes she had seen briefly before were back, and this time they did not disappear after a few spare moments. His face was serene, lacking any traces of ferocity, or – and this surprised her once she got a better look at the deep gash on his temple – pain. He made eye-contact with her and started to walk towards them.

Alia knew, in that one moment, that she had nothing to fear from X. The ice-cold glare of destruction he had worn into the room wasn't meant for her, or Nick, or anyone else who wasn't an agent of Sigma's malice. _He looks totally different now_, she thought, _but it's not like he's another person ... it's like there's _more_ of him now. How strange ..._

And then, he was kneeling in front of her, with the faintest of smiles on his face. His eyes flicked to her trainee badge, obviously looking for her name. Alia felt his hand touch her shoulder. "Are you alright, Alia?" he asked quickly. She nodded, reflexively turning her head to the side. She gasped, flinching before she could stop herself. The hand on her shoulder was covered in a white glove, but she only knew that because she had seen pictures of the legendary Hunter in some of the newer history books. At the moment, there wasn't a single centimeter of the corrosive-resistant garment that wasn't stained dark red with blood. The fabric around his knuckles was torn, and the skin over a couple of them appeared split. It was obvious that the saber-wielding Maverick's jaw wasn't the only thing he'd been forced to smash since the attack on the compound began.

X traced her gaze and pulled his hand away quickly, wearing what under any other circumstance Alia would have been sure was an embarrassed frown. "Sorry about that," he said softly. His gaze turned to her fallen escort. He was still only barely conscious. His frown deepened. "Nicky? Oh boy. Has he talked at all since he went down?" he asked urgently.

"A little, on and off, sir." Alia said quietly. _I can't believe I did that_, she scolded herself, but there wasn't anything she could do about it right now. "I ... I don't think we can move him. He said he can't feel his legs anymore."

Alia didn't think it was possible, but X's frown managed to deepen. "Alright. That complicates things a little." When he spoke again, it was obvious he wasn't speaking to her, but rather to someone on the communication net. "Sparky? This is X. I found them in ETR One. Nicky's down, looks like a spinal injury and limb amputation, along with some internal bleeding. No, I'm afraid I'm not kidding. Can you get a medical team down here?" He paused, listening. His facial expression didn't change. "Understood. I'll be expecting them in five minutes, then. Find Quinn. I want him to meet me here as soon as possible. I just took down five. How many hostiles are still on the grounds?" He furled his brow at something Alia couldn't hear. "_Thirty_? I would just _love _to know how they managed to get past the teleport scrambler. Stay frosty. Out." He turned to Alia. "Sparky says he can have a gurney team here in five minutes. Quinn – he's the Seventeenth's Lieutenant Commander – is going to meet them here and escort the two of you to the Infirmary. You'll be safe there until we sort this out. In the meantime, we need to try to stem the bleeding. There should be some tarp around here somewhere." X swept the room with his eyes, stopping when his gaze fell on a supply cabinet. "There." He got up quickly and moved swiftly across the room, returning after a few moments with a thick blue piece of fabric the size of a small tablecloth. He began ripping it into strips hastily, and handed one to her. "Wrap it into a ball – yeah, that's great – and press it over the wound – good. If it starts to get saturated, switch it out." He sighed. "Hopefully, if we're lucky, he's not bleeding out that fast."

"What about his arm?" Alia asked, trying not to focus on the grisly wound she was pressing her hands on, or how squishy and sticky it was. She had never seen a severely wounded human before, and she hoped she never would again.

"I'm afraid we can't do much about that right now. The plasma cauterized it, though, so it's really the least of his problems. It'll be seen early enough that it's very likely he'll be able to be fitted with a prosthetic. Now, we've just got to wait. Oh, and by the way," he added, smiling thinly, "please call me X. That whole 'sir' thing makes me feel old and far more important than I actually am."

Alia didn't rightly understand why the side of her mouth was quirking up. But she knew she felt a lot safer than she had only minutes before. There was even some irrational part of her that, if only for a second, was sure Nick wouldn't die, because X didn't want him to. That was the nature of his presence. "Okay."

"So," X said, readjusting his piece of tarp, "this is your first day, isn't it? I was told Nick was in this area with someone on the orientation tour. When he didn't check in, I decided to come have a look."

"It is. I'm in the Spotter Training Program. I've been told I'm likely going to be attached to the Seventeenth, actually."

X's smile was sardonic now. "Really? Welcome aboard. Just in case you were wondering, this is not a hazing ritual." He leaned down and put his ear to Nick's nose. "Not good. He's breathing slower now. They need to hurry up." X threw the now saturated piece of tarp to the side and grabbed another. "Badly," he added softly.

"Commander?" The voice was faint. X looked down. Nick was awake again, staring at the the Blue Bomber with clouded brown eyes. It was obvious that he couldn't see very well; he was blinking furiously in an attempt to focus. "What's going on? There were Mavericks ... sent Alia running ... wasn't sure ... if she would make it ..." He coughed, and blood dribbled down the side of his jaw.

X shot a questioning glance at the spotter-in-training. She held up the sonic overload disc, and he nodded in understanding, though she was certain he looked relieved that she hadn't tried to use it. His attention returned to the fallen human. "She's fine, Nicky. The Mavericks in this area have been ... dealt with. Everything's under control. We've got some medics coming to get you." He found the boy's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Everything's going to be fine, alright? I just need you to try to keep your eyes open for me. You've got to try to stay awake, but it would be better if you didn't talk." he finished calmly.

"You know," Nick managed, either ignoring or not hearing X's last comment, "my mother's gonna kill me, if I survive this. She was totally freaked when I told her I wanted to be a Hunter. I managed to convince her that spotting was a safe, non-combat position. She wanted me to be a lawyer ... I'm cold ... I don't want to go ..." His voice trailed off.

"_Nicky._ You are _not_ going to die, do you hear me?" X's voice was still soft, but its tone was a good deal more commanding than it had been moments before. Alia was surprised by the abruptness of the change. She could just make out a very slight, almost desperate undertone. "You're going to be fine," he continued, draping what was left of the tarp over his body. "You didn't survive those bastards just so you could bleed out on the floor of an equipment teleporter room. We're going to get you patched up, and then your mother can yell at you. Deal?"

Nicky blinked again. "Okay ..."

X blinked, and the worry in his eyes was quite visible to Alia now. _Do you think he'll make it?_ she mouthed.

_I hope_, his lips moved, but there was no sound.

Suddenly, Alia found herself remembering the way the last Maverick's eyes had changed before he charged. "What happened to him?" she said quietly, before she could stop herself.

"The Maverick with the saber?" X's voice was neutral now; soft and calm. Alia realized she liked it like that.

"Yeah. He looked so ready to surrender, and then he was just ... just ... enraged."

Sadness flickered in X's eyes. "_He_ was ready," he said oddly, "the Maverick Virus in his systems, on the other hand ..." he trailed off.

Alia gawked, feeling a new type of horror suddenly wash over her. "_That_ was the Virus? I've studied it for years – before I came here, I was in research. We studied the Virus in the lab, but never ... never on a live subject. I never imagined ..." Her skin was tinged slightly green now; she had every appearance of a human who was about to be violently sick. "How could he do that to them?"

"Sigma?" The sad look in X's eyes intensified for a moment. "He has no problem stripping people of their souls, since he doesn't have one himself. He lost it a long time ago."

  


"And we just waited there for another few minutes, both of us too busy trying to keep him from completely bleeding out to actually talk about very much else. When the medics showed up, they immobilized Nick, hooked him up to a portable infuser and an IV line, and put him on a gurney. Then they were whisking him down an empty hall, working on him as they went." She chuckled darkly. "One of them was human. She had a Scottish accent. I learned more about the correct use of Scottish profanity in those ten seconds than you can imagine.

"Then Quinn was there. I decided the two of them had a thing for dramatic entrances – he blasted through the ceiling with all of those claws of his out and charged, with his teeth barred, every bit the image of an enraged jungle cat – at first I thought he was another Maverick, and I half expected X to jump him. Of course, when he realized X had already killed all of them, he got really friendly, really fast. X ordered him to take me to the Infirmary and keep an eye on Nick, then he smiled at me and told me I'd see him later, owing to the fact that 'if I don't show up there when this is over, Lifesaver will come gunning for me.' Then he disappeared back through the hole he made in the floor, already charging one of his busters again. And that concluded my first meeting with X," she finished quietly. "Within another twenty minutes, the compound was cleared and things were getting back to normal, but I'm sure you remember all that."

_So that's why Nicky's in a wheelchair_. "Yeah, I do. I ended up stuck in a firefight in the armory that lasted nearly thirty minutes. Those were some persistent bastards." Zero braced himself for what he was about to do. "But, Alia, out of everything you just told me, you didn't do anything worth being ashamed of. Hell, you were ready to run weaponless and practically armorless into a throng of armed mercenaries. That makes you pretty damned brave, if you ask me. I know a couple of Commanders that would have cowered behind that burnt out computer and and waited for death." Indeed, when he spoke, his voice carried a new, impressed undertone.

"It's not that. And I know you're right, now. I didn't do anything worth being ashamed of, but that's not how I saw it then."

"I don't understand."

"It's not even that he had to save me. Like I said, I don't like to be helpless, but I know my limits. You're right. I probably would have been killed if X didn't show up. I didn't have EAS thrusters then, either." She tapped the heels of her boots together. "Something else I chose to have installed afterward. That's not the point. I couldn't believe I'd managed to _hurt_ him."

Zero blinked. "What?"

"When he touched me. He was just trying to reassure me, and I saw his hand, and I couldn't help it – it looked so painful – and I jerked away like he was some repulsive ... thing," she spat the last sentence like some sort of bile. "And the look in his eyes. It was embarrassment, and something I still haven't been able to identify. I couldn't imagine what kind of impression I must have left with him. I must have looked damned superficial." Her voice was very small now.

"Alia," Zero said reasonably, "you know X better than that now. You know he wouldn't have formed everlasting opinions about you based on that one meeting. And he knew how bad he could look after he got finished with an operation. If you'd never seen that before, there's no reason you shouldn't have found it unsettling." He looked away and frowned, remembering the way Iris had looked at him after he'd returned from a mission with his armor all-but drenched in other people's blood. "It's normal."

"I know that," she said miserably. "I've always known. And I know the relationship we had wasn't based solely on that first meeting, _because I swore it to myself it wouldn't be_. I promised myself he'd never see me slip up again. Of course, once the act really got going, and I started to like him, I had a little problem."

Zero nodded, finally feeling like he was starting to understand a bit of what was going on in his friend's head. "Go on."

"I was afraid he'd think I was repulsed because of what he did. Dumb, I know. I'd be an idiot if I was grossed out by my personal knight in shining armor. The logical part of me knew how stupid I was being, so I didn't ever dare mention it to him – which was probably, in the long run, more stupid. So I just sat on it, because I was too nervous about what he really thought of me. He wasn't a good liar, but he made up for it by being evasive as hell when he wanted to be."

"Alia ..." Zero began tentatively, but she went on, reminding him he had practically zero control over the conversation.

"So when I started to like him ... At first, I didn't know what to do. I mean, even without that stupid little voice in my head that loved to tell me he probably thought I was some kind of superficial bimbo – I'd actually managed to get over it after I got to talk with him regularly and knew he respected me – it was still X, and you're not supposed to just be able to wake up one day and ask a superhero out on a date without some sort of mental reservations." She laughed derisively at herself. "So, we were already friends at that point, and I decided I could work with that for a little longer, until I figured out what I was going to do. I mean," and her tone was suddenly acidic, "I had all the time in the world, right? No one can kill Mega Man X, right?"

She began to rub her temple absently before continuing. She had stopped sobbing long ago, but her eyes remained moist. "Lately, though, it seemed like we were getting a little bit closer. We had been spending more time together outside operational activity – which was nice, considering operational activity was mostly me listening to him getting shot at by crazed maniacs. Our relationship was changing. We weren't necessarily getting any closer romantically, but we were suddenly more comfortable around each other. It was certainly easier to talk to him about ... almost anything. I liked the change in our relationship, and I didn't want to jinx it, so I was perfectly happy to sit on my hands for a while longer. I was more than happy. I was _comfortable_ with him, and that was nice." She sighed. "_Too_ nice. I got worried about losing that if any attempts to advance our relationship didn't work out, so I settled on a hands off approach. I was just going to sit back and see what happened. If it went anywhere, it wouldn't be because of my prodding; it would be a natural progression." She frowned. "As it turns out, nature moves too slowly. I missed my chance, because I was afraid of trashing the relationship we already had. Sounds like something out of some teen drama hour, doesn't it? I must sound like some sort of babbling idiot. So, now I ... I don't know what to do."

"Alia," Zero began after it was clear she was done talking for a while, "all you can do is go on. You and I, we're not dead yet. Both of us are still stuck on this miserable planet, and unless something drastic happens, I doubt either of us will be leaving it anytime soon. The most important thing for you to remember – and the best thing I can tell you – you're not the first person who feels like they missed an opportunity with someone special because they were too slow, and you won't be the last. You didn't do anything wrong. Motivation aside, you did what you thought was right. You could have done nothing different."_ Neither of us did. _His look was distant now, but Alia didn't catch the change.

"Maybe. But I look at Quinn and Beth, and they're so happy, and I wonder – what did they do different? Or ... was it simply that they were meant to work, and we weren't even meant to have the chance? No, don't look at me like that. I'm not jealous of them. I'm glad they found each other ... they're cute, and sweet, and they're a wonderful couple – though I could really do without Beth dropping bizarre hints about their sex life. There are some things I'd just rather not contemplate. Sure, I did what I thought was right. But was it? And if there's really such a thing as fate that can either work for you or against you, did it even matter?"

"That's all irrelevant," Zero said after a moment of silence. "You can't think about it like that. You'll just feel worse. You're stuck in the now. You can't agonize about the before. I've done that. It doesn't work," he added so softly that Alia almost couldn't hear him.

Alia looked at him, confusion plainly visible on her face. "What?"

"Let's just say you're not the only Hunter in this room who's been a victim of bad timing and personal confusion." His voice was faintly bitter now. "If it makes you feel any better, you're a lot more together now than I was then."

"Zero, I didn't mean to –" she started quickly, tone apologetic and more than a little confused.

"It's alright. You aren't rubbing salt in any open wounds." _More like tapping old scars. But if this is my only way I can make you feel better, then here we go. _"What do you know about the Repliforce War?"

"... Everything that's in the standard history database files." And suddenly, the conversation was Zero's again.

The dark look on Zero's face was unidentifiable. "You'll remember Colonel then, though I'm afraid his sister isn't mentioned very much. Our relationship was something ... something I'll never forget." And then, he was doing something he'd only done once before – telling another living soul everything about his relationship with Iris. He wasn't sure if it would help her, but he wasn't X, and it was the best, most personal thing within his power to do.

  


When Alia was walking back to her quarters twelve hours later at the end of her evening shift, her mood and thoughts were far removed from their earlier state. _He hides it well_, she thought darkly. _I'd have never have guessed. At least it makes sense now, why he doesn't date._ She laughed soundlessly at herself. _Was that why you told me, Zero? To shock me so much that I'd stop thinking about my own problems? Well, that might not have happened, but I got the message._

And that was true. She had come away from their meeting feeling far less isolated, and she hated to admit it, but knowing about Zero's relationship with Iris made her feel much less stupid. It wasn't that she considered herself to have handled things better than him; she was amazed that he'd managed to pull himself together as quickly as he did, though she was sure X had something to do with it. He was never one to let people sulk. _At least_, she thought, _I didn't have to kill him. Small blessings._

It was simply that she didn't feel alone anymore. Those other people who were victimized by time and circumstance weren't simply theoretical – she knew one, and somehow that helped. And above that, Zero had listened. It wasn't like talking to X might have been, but she was far more comfortable with the Crimson Hunter than she would have been with anyone else still living. Everything she had held inside since Friday was out now. None of it was really gone, but she wasn't trying to pretend it didn't exist anymore. Indeed, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders – and wrapped around her waist. It was all still there, but far easier to carry. The world was spinning again, maybe not as fast as it was supposed to, but that was something she could work on.

When she stepped into the Seventeenth's common area, she found it surprisingly dark and unusually deserted. If she had been at her best, she might not have been completely scared out of her wits when the lights flared to life and every member of Unit Seventeen, Unit Zero, and the entire senior staff flooded into the room from the second level with a rousing yell of "Surprise!" Indeed, she probably would have been able to keep herself from jumping half a foot into the air. At the very least (and she patted herself soundly on the back for this later) she caught herself before she dropped into a defensive crouch and activated her weapon systems.

She took in the room. There were a few dozen colored balloons tied to the second floor railing. A silver and gold "Happy Birthday" foil banner hung on the far wall, slightly lopsided. A folding table was set up near the arch that led to the main hallway, covered in plastic cups, paper plates, and what looked suspiciously like a purple and black margarita machine. A cooler was directly underneath the pastel monstrosity, open and filled to the brim with various kind of sodas. Someone, in a supreme act of insanity, had hung a spinning, golden disco ball from the ceiling that seemed to be emitting Barry White tunes. She was fairly certain she could smell cake, but she couldn't figure out where it was.

It took her a full three seconds to come up with a reaction to what was in front of her eyes. There was, of course, shock – they had managed to completely surprise her, and from the well organized look of things, this had been planned for a while. A part of her knew, without a doubt, that they had help from someone who was no longer with them. In fact, she was willing to bet that X had planned pretty much everything, and Zero had simply executed those plans. It explained why there were certain areas of X's database where it looked like someone had edited the recent entries. All the decorations – it all looked like something he would have assembled. She felt a tinge of sadness at the realization, but she didn't let it show, and she didn't let it bog her down. She had made herself a new promise, sitting in Zero's apartment. She had promised herself she was going to deal with her grief and refused, then and there, to ever let pride, doubt, or any other useless emotion freeze her mind. She was better than that, and it wouldn't be easy, but she would get past this, no matter what it took. And oftentimes, the hardest part was the first step...

She looked at them all, standing there. Some of them were beaming at her, like Beth. Others were trying to, but looked slightly nervous, waiting for her to react, like Onyx and Signas. Zero's smile was reassuring and just a little bit cocky, just like it was supposed to be. She would have never guessed he was the same person who sat in his quarters with her and cried, telling her about his one and only lost love. Almost everybody else just looked amazed and relieved that they'd pulled it off. Alia felt something she hadn't felt in days: she was happy. Not ecstatic, and maybe not as thrilled as she might have been if X were still among them, but simply happy.

So it was that, five full seconds after everyone yelled their greeting, Alia pulled her hands away from her face, careful to wipe the lone tear of quiet joy off her cheek before anyone could see it, and she smiled at them. The gesture was supremely difficult and insanely easy all at the same time, and it felt as if it were something she hadn't done in days. And maybe it was – this was certainly the first time it had meant anything to her since Friday. X had made her promise, before he walked away from her forever, not to let everything fall apart after he was gone. She was part of that everything, and she would keep her promise, even if it was one of the hardest things she would ever do.


	8. The Cusp of Foverever After

A/N: Please see the first chapter for the complete notes. I must apologize for taking so long to update this. I got entirely too busy, and my muse went other places. I could have written before now, but my brain just wasn't into it, and I didn't want to do this if it wasn't going to be as good as I could get it. All reviews, including constructive critiques are more than welcome. Thanks to Classic Cowboy for betareading. Please enjoy.

_"It's Friday, December 8th, at the top of the noon hour; that means you've just tuned in to Music Network Five's Lunch-Hour Lowdown: exciting news you can use. I'm Ken B. Stacy, your anchor."_ The man in question was undeniably young-looking, with shining sapphires for eyes and perfectly gelled short blonde hair Ð sporting the simple-looking yet complex kind of style you leave a salon with but can never duplicate the next morning. His skin was a wonderfully soft looking peachy-cr 


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